Feigned Innocence
by AmethystKR
Summary: A revised story. Better off reading the whole thing again. Salene doesn't want to become a hero but she might have to be when the charming Pirate king returns to Albion's shores and a dangerous romance threatens to blossom against her better judgement.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

The dingy streets of Bloodstone became even more rambunctious and chaotic (if that was even possible) as the news spread about the town and soaked on the tongues of the locals hungrily. Just as drunks would inhale the latest import of knothole's ale as a career at the tavern, witless townsfolk gossiped as the latest insight harbored along with the ship and its sailors, bringing booze and other goods from various ports; a great deal of it stolen, no doubt.

It started as a whisper, maybe one of pure wishful thinking that escalated to something indisputably impossible to stop, but a simple whisper none the less from one grimy and miserable crate carrier to another equally dismal one as they unloaded the shabby and neglected looking ship at the harbor.

"A pal ol' mine from Knothole said e' seen a ship that looked a mighty lot like ol' Reaver's while e' was docked at the harbor for e' couple e' days. Though he was drunk…" the lowly sailor abruptly stopped as a piece of wood smacked him square in the back of his head.

"Oi, we not be having any of that nonsense" The ship's Captain dealt another swift blow to the jabbering man, "now back to work with the two of ye."

But by the time the captain had noticed the two slackers and silenced them, the damage had been done. The rumor spread like an STD on a tart's good night (considering that's the only comparison a local from Bloodstone would comprehend). It crept slowly to the tavern where the ship men enlaced the rumor with their other various tales and encounters while out at sea.

The disheveled drunks later grumbled something about it to a preoccupied whore; the drunk unable to muster much of anything to make sense with. But when that name slipped off their slippery tongues, the whore always perked up, whether due to memories or another, and pressed for more details.

After piecing together the jumble of blabber the tart could fathom, they quickly gathered in a suffocating haze of potential disease at their corners to swoon over the prospect of seeing their mayor again, growing dizzy with anticipation. The shop owners overheard the excitement of coos and giggles from the tarts and investigated their sudden giddy behavior who in turn gossiped about what information they had gathered between the squeals and giggles to their customers.

All in all, the place had become a riot and by evening everybody had at least heard the news if not already tripping over themselves and each other in a drunken sort of joy (Or maybe just drunk). And granted, a great deal of the town had exploded with this sort of craze enthusiasm, but there were those who carried out their somewhat dismal excuse of a life without a fleeting heart beat for the long lost Reaver, the Pirate king.

* * *

"As bad ass as the title may be, he doesn't seem to be all that of a pleasant person when you get around to it," a barmaid inquired to no one in particular in the crowded tavern. The place was dingy but it was also understood that it was probably as clean as the place could get considering. And be that as it may, it still had an old charm about it that made the tavern a uniquely pleasant place to be. Mickey, the owner of the tavern, probably had a large part for her opinion of the place.

"Aye, you weren't around these parts when Reaver was here," the middle aged barman said while handing off fresh pints from the keg.

"Nope" She almost sounded gleeful towards that fact and Mickey silently brooded over why. "I was just a small thing back in Samarkand."

The barmaid giggled and flashed a surprisingly brilliant smile to a staggering thug that had stumbled behind the bar. "No, no, Mister Riley," the girl rushed over to him before his flailing limbs could knock over any mugs. She waged her delicate finger at him and gave him a soft pat on the back while guiding him back to his rickety looking stool, knowing through experience that it was indeed rickety and dangerous, "Only personnel behind the counter." Riley merely remarked with a hiccup before his head slumped over and hit the table with a low thud.

"Salene, you really shouldn't play with the people like that" Mickey motioned her back over behind the bar where it was_ safe_. Salene rolled her eyes but went to stand beside him and looked up into his tanned face as his features morphed into something she could guess was concern. "The people here are scum; you can never let your guard down."

"And what does that make you?" she retorted. Mickey opened his mouth at her remark but Salene didn't give him a chance to speak. "You're not scum, nothing of the sort" she smiled up at him as she spoke, making his tough heart crack with such innocence that she seemed to just glow with it.

"Besides Mickey, I can take care of myself. How do you think I carried on before you?" Salene fetched a couple of empty mugs and went to the back to deposit them in a bucket to be washed later, leaving the barman to stare blankly after her.

He had often wondered about such things from time to time and in the end Mickey had no idea how she could have faced the world as young as she was and still smile. He watched her as she turned back to her work. She had only been here in Bloodstone for a little over five months and he felt a possessive grip over her like a father would for his helpless child. Something he never experienced.

"Salene, may nothing in this world strip you of your innocence." Oddly enough, as he whispered this plea to whatever higher being that would listen he couldn't help but think of the pirate king.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

* * *

Several days later:

"No seriously Mickey, what's going on?" Salene's frustration leaked out of her voice as she turned to look at her rather nervous looking barman. One minute they had a full house, the next a raging lunatic speaking gibberish stumbled at the door, smacked his face fully against the door frame, and continued his rant in 'drunkinese' as if blood wasn't just trickling from his nose; which looked grotesque, swollen and twisted.

She wondered just how much damage was done before his face found the frame but didn't get the chance to investigate further when she realized that everybody else at the tavern obviously knew this 'drunkinese' and proceeded to scramble out the narrow door nearly on top of one another; a file line didn't exist here. She tailed right behind them, poking her head out the door and watched, as it would appear, everyone in town gathering about the docks while an unfamiliar ship sailed towards it.

"Mickey?" Salene pressed as she stalked towards him, peering childishly close to his face. Mickey stumbled back a little and shook his head slightly. "Who's coming?" Salene pressed her hands together at her chest in a pleading manor, bright hazel eyes glowed yellow with curiosity.

"I would hope you're not that forgetful, kid" Mickey remarked, turning his back to her to fetch up more mugs. He'd need them when everyone started to head back.

"Well thanks" Salene griped, a little hurt at his harshness. She followed his lead, gathering the forgotten mugs at the tables and piled them into a large bucket at the corner.

"I want you to wash those there and afterwards you can leave." Mickey turned to her suddenly with a stern look she had never seen him wear.

"You're not making sense-"

"I don't have to."

"Look at you, whoever is on that ship has-"

"That's enough, Salene" Mickey interrupted her again. He could see her eyes flash but she didn't say more.

She turned on her heel, snatched an empty pail from the ground and stalked out the door mumbling "You're not my father…"

"Aye, but I am your boss." He called out after her before she disappeared. By the sound of her agitated wailing he could tell she had heard him and that she had lost this battle.

"She'll get me for this, I just know it." Mickey grumbled to himself as he went to the back room to get two kegs of Knothole brew.

* * *

Salene was violent with the pail as she thrust in under the water pump, pushing it down; the water sloshed into the pail and started to overflow in seconds. "Should have brought two pails…" she mumbled as she brought up the overflowing pail with surprising strength and started back inside. Carelessly, she poured the water into the bucket piled high with dirty mugs. Nearly half of it found the floor instead.

"You better clean that up, missy." Mickey's voice piped up from somewhere in the backroom. Salene ignored him, snatched a second pail and went back out to the water pump. She glanced over towards the docks. The people there were rowdy, pushing each other and shouting out to the ship that just docked at the harbor. A figure flashed in gold in the setting sun was at the bow of the ship, waving towards the crowd like some royalty. Salene had a good guest who it was, and suddenly she didn't blame Mickey for his violent mood swing. She knew stories of this man, probably more then she'd let on. She made haste filing the bucket, which took six more pails of water.

By then the crowd had begun to head back for the town, the tavern their destination. Salene passed Mickey as he corked a few vintage wines, something he never usually offered, and gave him a soft pat on the back. Mickey stiffened and looked down at her. She said nothing, but smiled at him, then went to fetch some soap flakes and rag. They both had come to a mutual understanding; if it could be done, they would not bring her to _his_ attention.

Salene stooped to her knees as the first wave of intelligible voices rushed through the door. Among the drunken slurs and high pitched squeals was an eloquent voice that seemed out of place with the rest. She felt a pull to look up in search for its owner and her eyes widen as a gorgeous man passed through the door.

"Reaver" She whispered to herself.

Dark brown hair combed over in a neat style, deep emerald eyes filled with self-importance, and thoroughly enjoying the sickening mass of attention to the point where Salene wouldn't have been surprise if he would bathe in it. Regrettably, the thought brought about an image she had to shake violently to pull away from. She forced herself to her task, though half heartedly; Salene was listening intently to what he had to say. Much of it involved how awesome he was then later going in explicit detail about Samarkand and his other fabulous, and obviously overly exaggerated, tales of his voyage. This was a man with true _fisherman_ tales, Salene thought with the roll of her eyes.

But it was the name of her home land that got to her, tugged at a place in her heart that she normally did very well to forget. Although she wasn't actually born there, the majority of her life that meant something to her happened in that exotic land_, _which made it more of a home to her than Albion_. Samarkand._

"Oh, Mickey, another wine my lad, don't keep me waiting." The man known as Reaver waved a hand absently over to the disgruntled barman. If it wasn't for the fact that Reaver equaled big business, Salene would have guessed he would have dealt a good one to him a long time ago. Instead, chewing his tongue, he uncorked another vintage and poured it into Reaver's goblet. Neither man offered any sort of thanks as Mickey, rather distastefully, handed the full glass back to the man. "See you're still the same old sour oaf" Reaver snickered and a girl beside him giggled as she made a move to sit in his lap. The pirate king welcomed her, issuing that the other girls to follow suit.

"Rather despicable, really" Salene grumbled as she stood, still coated in the shadows at the corner. Mickey turned to her with a grin, relieved to know her disgust for the situation. Though the second he turned his back, Salene noticed a scrawny fellow sneak a pint with a snide smirk on his features. Without thinking properly, Salene stepped out of the shadows to reclaim the stolen ale and only when Reaver locked eyes with her did she realize what she had done.

This man could ruin her. She didn't fear him, though maybe she should. She knew much of the man through scrolls and tales from her mentor back in Samarkand and that knowledge alone made her confident that there was no way he could surprise her. But the fact that Reaver was a Hero, with an ancient and powerful blood coursing through him, made her second guess herself and his capabilities. He couldn't be so easily fooled like the rest.

_But there is no way on hell that he is going to ruin this for me_. Determined, Salene glared at him quickly but turned back to the thief with his stolen pint, hoping Reaver hadn't noticed her. But that was wishful thinking on her part.

"That's not the kind of look a pretty thing like you should wear, lass." Reaver drawled, momentarily forgetting the wave of girls that engulfed him. The one in his lap pouted and wrapped her slender arms about his neck, which seemed to pull his attention back to her. Salene silently thanked the shameless girl and inquired the drunkard to pay for his ale. Mickey came up behind her, placing large, callused hands on her shoulder. She risked a glance at the barman, knowing all too well what expression he held on that weathered face of his. _Yup, he's mad. _Salene thought lightly, giving him a meek smile as apology.

"You really don't think before you act, girl." Mickey's voice was rough and low, possibly with rage and pushed her somewhat gently behind him. "You can go now."

Salene just couldn't understand that man sometimes. Standing frozen in his shadow for what she could guess was too long, Mickey turned to her with a hard, but unreadable look. Slowly, Salene breathed out, smoothing the thin material of her skirts and stepped out from behind him, back into view of the man that had just become a threat. Sometimes, she wished she could tell Mickey exactly what she was, just how capable she was. But she would lose him, lose everybody. She always did.

So she smiled at him weakly and proceeded to find her way out through the smelly crowd. Just as she was about to step into the brisk night, she felt someone grab hold of her arm roughly and turned quickly, plastering a smile on her face as she saw the glazed eyes of a local drunkard staring back at her, the same one she had just encountered just a moment before. "And what can I do for you, good sir?" The man was too drunk to hear the sarcasm, but that didn't take away the twinkle in her eyes. Playing with fire was always so enticing.

"Why aren't cha sta'in?" He asked with a suggestive and utterly repulsive look on his face. Probably due to the smear of vomit and saliva on his chin that he appeared not be aware of.

Salene quirked an eyebrow at his genuine question; normally at her leave, the men tend to ask for other things like "want a little fun?" or "you can't keep me away forever" (granted, that's not a question and more over a remark) in which case she would simply reply "don't you wish" with a wicked grin before turning on her heel, heading toward Wraithmarsh. Nobody ever had the guts to follow her into the banshee infested, hollow men ridden, and just downright dismal of a place. But the man holding tightly onto her arm had surprised her, something she didn't like. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Reaver glance over in her direction. Salene pulled her arm away from the man as politely as possible, smiling as she did so as to not further encourage the man to make anymore more mistakes.

"Sorry, but I have a few things I have to do" She said sweetly, looking over towards Mickey for help, which required having to look pass Reaver. _Hope his big head doesn't think I'm swooning over him_.

"You mess with that girl, Kings, and I can't guarantee you'll wake up tomorrow." Mickey interjected as Kings made another grab at her. What happened next happened too fast for her to imagine; her ears rang and kings dropped his hands to his sides with a pain stricken expression across his face. Worried that he was about to wretch all over her, Salene stepped back from him. Instead, blood trickled from his agape mouth, making a sickening gurgle sound before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and slumped over, nearly toppling over her. Salene gasped as she realized that was dead, a bullet embedded snugly in his head.

"You!" Salene immediately pulled her gaze away from the body to stare daggers at the man with his pistol still pointing directly at her, smoke billowing from its barrel. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Reaver looked her over with disinterest before bringing his pistol back to his holster at his waist. "Just doing you a favor, luv" he said mildly, his green eyes never leaving hers. "I won't have any petty scoundrel harassing such a lovely looking thing like yourself. In fact, I do believe you ought to be thanking me, not dirtying that pretty mouth with foul words." His smirk almost made her physically gag. Eyes flashing viciously, Salene fought to compose herself, to keep from letting the surge of will to flow freely from her body and destroy the disgrace of a man before her.

"I won't" Salene promised aloud to herself, gritting her teeth together to the point where it hurt. She turned from him, wanting to so badly to use her will to distance herself as quickly as possible and praying that Reaver was as an insufferable fool as he looked; who couldn't trace the pull she tried so desperately to hide in vain.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

* * *

Salene felt sorry for Mickey. Now not only would he have to deal with drunken idiots and the egotistical Reaver, but he would have to do something about the body of Kings that still blocked the front door of his tavern, alone. Well, Salene wouldn't put it past her if the party would even remember that poor sap still laying face first in a puddle of his own reeking blood. In fact, they'd probably walk right over him, or even on him. She shuddered at the thought. _How can Mickey even put up with that?_

She wandered up the steps that made up the hill towards the tombs, the entrance of Wraithmarsh. She wouldn't turn back, as outraged as Mickey already was; she knew that if he saw her face again tonight he might just very well boil over. That, and Reaver was still there, soaking up the perverse groping of the stupid tarts, and probably doing his fair share between glasses of wine.

"Poor Mickey" Salene couldn't help but sigh aloud into the night.

"Poor indeed" Responded a gruff voice. Salene had stopped in front of a particularly realistic looking carving of an old, bearded man in one of the tombs stone walls. She smiled weakly at the head as it caught her tired eyes with his own stony gaze.

"I heard the racket all the way from here" the daemon door exclaimed as Salene settled herself rather ungracefully on the ground before him. Bringing her knees to her chest, she looked rather vulnerable as she continued to gaze up at the door without a word. "Lost for words, I see. Not very like you."

"He killed a man" Salene moaned miserably into her hands. It was hard for the door to show much emotion, being made of stone, but he seemed to manage as his brows knit together with concern. Not for the man who died, Kings was a humiliation for human kind much like everybody else, but for the odd girl that was curled up before him, a visible crack in her otherwise tough and impenetrable exterior.

"Reaver is a disgusting thing" the door muttered softly, but it still managed to sound hoarse and indifferent. "But he's not going anywhere, Salene, he can't."

Salene stood abruptly then, taking the door by surprise (not that it showed). She smiled at the door again, though no sign of her once cheerful and bright aura graced her soft features. "It just reminded me of things" she whispered. She turned her gaze over the waterfront, out into the open sea. She was like that for a moment, a deep silence settled over the two while she seemed lost in her thoughts and memories. Then she turned back to the door, a glint in her eyes. _What a radical change she possessed at times, what an odd thing she is._

"I'm exhausted, off to bed with me." Salene's voice was light again and she headed for a broken tomb. Inside was a small pallet, a bag that occupied what little possessions she had: clothes, a book, a pair of boots, and a small lantern that she knelt down to. Whispering softly to it like a lover, she pulled back to watch as the wick flared to life with a soft glow of a breathing flame. She enjoyed watching the light flicker against the walls, casting shadows that danced around her in a deep madness she wished she could join. Salene wouldn't though and instead nestled deeper into her makeshift bed for as much warmth as it could give her and sought the shadows behind closed eyes.

* * *

_Salene was only seven when she experienced her first bandit raid. Regrettably, she was on the side with the weak and terrified villagers. _

_The sun hadn't even completely set when the first battle cries tore at the air and the armed monsters in the flesh of men seemingly appeared out of the glow of the setting sun. For a split second, it felt like something out if a story book, but it was normally the good guys that always made an astounding appearance with the halo of sunlight at their backs. The moment soon vanished as the reality of the situation stepped in._

_Salene and a few other girls from the village had been picking flowers in the last rays of light in the opposite pasture when her mother came rushing from the village and snatched her up in her arms. She had not picked her up since she had gotten too heavy to carry. Her mother didn't say a word but her face was pale with fear, and Salene immediately began to cry bitterly at the sight of her mother's state._

_"Hush." Her mother's voice was quiet but the harshness stung her all the same. Not knowing what else to do and instilled with the sudden fear that equaled the older woman's, the other girls followed them to the outskirts of the village._

_"What's happening?" cried one the older girls from the group as they entered into the dark shade of the forest canopy. A lot of the children have always been told to never go into the woods and in doing so now was making their dread escalate to hysteria. One girl even had to be tugged along roughly by the others because she had become too shaken to continue. Salene was set down into the hollow of a dead tree and the older woman motioned for the other girls to follow suit. _

_"There are bandits raiding the village." The woman raised her hand as the girls began to wail in a chaotic chorus. "Shut up. The men are protecting our homes but you must all stay here until I come back for you. Do not make a sound. Do not leave." She gave Salene a quick hug and gave a weak, reassuring smile before she left to help protect their home. She didn't tell them everything was going to be alright, she knew better than that._

_It felt like hours had went by and the forest had grown even darker now that there was no sun to filter through the trees. The forest was quiet save to the several sniffling children that huddled together in the dead tree. The smell of fire and burning flesh began to permeate the air but no one dared to move._

_When the sound of footsteps broke the silence, one of the girls gave out a squeak and forced her way out of the hollow despite the hands that tried to hold her back. Instead of finding a villager coming to retrieve them there was a bandit, armed with sword blanketed with blood. The girl screamed when the filthy man set out after her and she tried to dive back into the hiding place with the other girls but he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back. There was a loud pop as it dislocated and her guttural scream caused all the other girls to scream in terror as they watched her slump over herself._

_Moments later, other bandits arrived and the children had been forcefully pulled out of the dead tree and herded back to the burning village. Salene found more bandits rummaging through the loot and bodies they had claimed and another small group of survivors that cowered together near the foot path that lead to the larger carriage trail; most of them women and children. There were screams coming from some of the burning cabins, cruel laughter and victory chants from the vile raiders, and sobbing from the enslaved villages that were now being roped up in a long chain. _

_As hard as Salene tried to peer through the smoke that watered her eyes and burned her lungs, she couldn't find her parents._

* * *

Salene wasn't entirely sure what to do when she woke the next morning. She wandered over to the tavern, a bucket in hand, and peeked though the small, dingy windows for Mickey. After making sure no one was around she helped herself to some water from the pump behind the building. The water was cold and prickled her skin as it spilled over her arms and she shivered against the cold it settled in her.

Today it was just too cold, she would have to heat it first before she could stand to use it. Salene hoisted the bucket into her arms and turned to make her way back when she was greeted with a solid, warm wall that she crashed into, causing the water to spew over the front of her. Immediately soaked to the bone and surprised, she stumbled back to distance herself, nearly falling over before caught by the shoulder with large, overworked hands.

_How could I have let anyone sneak up on me? _Salene scolded herself as she turnedto look up into Mickey's face. She sighed with relief, but then regretted it when she remembered that is was his well that she was…borrowing water from and that it now soaked her front, not leaving much to the imagination. She blushed with humiliation and snatched the bucket that fell to the ground to hide behind, but Mickey didn't seem to notice her divided predicament.

"I'm so sorry-"Salene started but was cut off.

"That you were caught?" Mickey inquired, eyeing the now empty bucket that shielded her from him.

"No" Salene blurted out hastily. "I just." A crack broke through Mickey's stern face as she stumbled over her words and a wicked smirk replaced it. Salene blushed furiously again with the increasing awkwardness and shame. Attempting to cover up her unsettlement she huffed with frustration, then cast her head down to observe her muddy feet, knowing she couldn't just run away.

"A girl's got to be clean" she finished lamely. Mickey laughed at that and patted her roughly on the shoulder before pulling her into him, the bucket crushing into her ribs.

"That they do. Don't think I haven't noticed you stealing water from my well for a while now." Mickey gave her a stern look before walking her to his back door. _Wow, I have been getting rusty… _

"If you needed a place to stay, all you have to do is ask." Mickey had shoved her through the door, now in the back room of his tavern, and followed in behind her. Salene immediately berated herself for not thinking to use the back door the other night. So much could have been avoided. Mickey detracted her moment of belittlement as he took her arm and she reluctantly let him take her through the bar; noticing that Kings was no longer gracing the floor, and up the stairs.

"I'm too proud" was all Salene said as he placed her down a ratty looking bed, though much better than her pallet that still resided in _her_ tomb. _This must be Mickey's room_, Salene blushed madly at the realization but Mickey was either oblivious or ignored the fact at how inappropriate this was. Well, he was from Bloodstone…as if that justifies anything. She still tried to be as small as possible behind the bucket now in her lap.

"But not proud enough to where you steal." Mickey had turned his back to her now and headed over to a small, divided off section of the room. Salene recognized the making of a bathroom; smart man he was for that idea. "You can use my inside pump for a nice brisking up-come here" Mickey motioned for her to come forward and she found herself walking into the small bathroom.

She was impressed; a large, wooden tub sat in the corner of the room, the rim resting just beneath a pump that Mickey somehow managed to pipe water to. On the other side of the room was an updated loo, instead of a small pail, there was a wooden box that could be opened from the back, guessing inside was the 'pail of holding of excretions.' On the top was a hole. Salene bit her tongue to suppress the giggle threatening to erupt. The idea of someone sitting over a hole to take a crap…

"This is…different Mickey." Salene stumbled over the right words to use, though amazed as she was, it was still kind of queer.

"I'll take that as a complement." Mickey frowned for a moment but then smiled at Salene's baffled look. "Are you gonna continue hiding behind that thing?" He motioned to the bucket griped in her hands and she blushed again, crushing it tighter against her chest.

"Anyways" he continued unabashed, "It'll be cold, there's nothing I can do about that at the moment." With that said he turned to leave without giving her a chance to decline the offer. Obviously, no was not an option.

After getting over the initial sense of uneasiness, Salene set down the bucket and went to fill the tub with the cold water until she was satisfied. With a bit more concentration needed, she whispered to the water like she did to the lantern until it began to give off a simmering steam. She undressed and indulged herself with the first good bath she had since Samarkand.

* * *

"How come you don't have that kind of water system for the whole tavern?" Salene questioned Mickey when she descended the staircase, now wearing a decent shirt and trousers Mickey had left out for her. It was a kind thought with her own clothes being wet even though she had to use a rope to secure the trousers that were three times bigger than her entire body. It was mid-morning but no one graced the bar yet which was unusual. Not even the game's traveler was sitting outside with his marked cards. Mickey was wiping the smug off one of the mugs when he looked up to see her smiling and clean face.

"You don't realize the work I put into that." He sounded bored and went back to smudge that proved to be putting up a fight, but smiled none the less at her statement. He had chuckled when he heard her gasp with startled glee. No doubt she noticed the cork in the tub that drained the water without her doing so.

"So where does the water go?" Salene asked as she sat on a dangerously unbalanced stool. A look of pure excitement flashed in her eyes and Mickey tossed her an apple. She accepted it without thought, too distracted with curiosity to decline like she normally would.

"You know that hole in the back where rats sometimes get stuck?" Leave it Mickey to answer with a question. But Salene knew what he meant and her face fell flat for a moment as an image popped in her head. She giggled a little, causing Mickey to look up at her quizzically.

"Hope nobody's there when the water spews them in the face!"


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

* * *

Salene went back to her abode to dress in proper clothes and explained to the daemon door when he inquired as to why she was wearing man's clothes, and large ones at that. She ignored his robust outburst of hard laughter when she finished her embarrassing story and cast a spell of reflection onto the wall to inspect herself.

"You are still woman despite your cross dressing tendencies" The door assured teasingly, earning a quick glare from the girl and a flip of her long hair as she turned back to the makeshift mirror with a humph.

Once thoroughly convinced that she looked decent she bid the still chortling daemon door farewell and headed back to town. Wandering down the grimy streets of Bloodstone, a vacant mind that corresponded to an equally vacant expression etched on her pale face as she took in the waterfront and up to the hill where the largest building was housed.

One would think that in Reaver's absence the town might amount to something, there would be some notable upgrade in maybe the drab appearance of the homes, or perhaps shop owners would make an effort to sell more sufficient goods besides alcohol. Better yet, maybe someone would take Reaver's place, a better one mind you, to turn this waste hole upside down, like Westcliff. Maybe it use to be decent before Reaver seized it. It seemed incredibly likely.

_No point in thinking of what should have been_, Salene thought as she looked up at the most decent looking of homes in town, the Bloodstone Manor. _If only Sparrow bought the place instead of disappearing to Oakfield…_ She pulled away from the sight and made her way back to the tavern, only to find that, oddly enough, the place was still rather empty. _Guess everyone is crashing from the night before. _She made sure that was the only thought of that night to pass her mind.

Mickey was slouched over the counter, picking at a splinter of wood against the otherwise smooth surface. _Done with that mug, I suppose_. Salene made her way past the bar and beside the tired barman, hoisting herself up gracefully onto the counter. Mickey gave her a disapproving look but said nothing of it, turning back to his lazy splitter removing. Sometimes, she wondered how Mickey could have been brought up in a place like this; he acted more like someone from Bowerstone, with his low key sense of propriety.

"The place is gonna be dead until late afternoon, kid. Nobody is even working at the docks." Mickey didn't look at her when he spoke. It was like he was carrying on a conversation with the counter. Salene nodded, recalling that the docks were indeed un-bustling on her way back to the tavern. she leaned over so that her face replaced his view and she gave him a grin at his startled look.

"Lucky no one's here, I'm sure you look mighty suggestive." Mickey grinned back at her before she straightened up. Salene had convinced herself a long while ago that Mickey had…an unusual sexual appetite, which was why she felt she could trust him over everyone else. This morning defiantly gave credence to her speculation.

"So, what am I suppose to do then?" Salene asked, jumping off the counter to follow Mickey into the back room.

"Go do what it is you normally do." Mickey replied with a yawn.

"I could stay and watch the place while you nap. You couldn't have had much sleep last night." Salene suggested, placing a hand on the barman.

He gave her an appreciated look but shrugged, shaking his head "No can do, you can't very well watch the place when I'm gone. God knows what could happen." Salene gave him a narrow look then he added, "Look, you're not strong enough to stop anyone who would want to take something, including you."

Salene pulled away from him with a huff. "You really have no idea how capable I am."

"Salene, I've never even seen you hold a gun in my life."

Salene thought about the power coursing through her, oh how she would love to show him, but she wouldn't. She was, in fact, suppose to keep up the appearance of a weak girl (the decision her own doing). She was safer that way in the end.

"Fine, I'm going then" Salene walked back to the bar, Mickey slowly proceeded after her. "I'll be back by three." And with that she disappeared, a little faster than Mickey would suspect to be normal.

* * *

Wraithmarsh looked like a dangerous, forsaken, piece of hell, and I guess it very well was. But that didn't stop Salene from venturing through the swampy land almost on a daily basis. Most of the time, Banshee's and hollow men tended to avoid her, forcing her to search them out. Today was not a day to practice her physical strength though; realizing that she had been neglecting the better part of her will, she seated herself on a desolate rock to meditate like Garth had once taught her.

"Ay, what'cha think you do'in!"

Startle, Salene opened her eyes to observe her surroundings. If she found a talking hollow man, she didn't think she would be able to bring herself to kill it. But there was nothing, not that it stopped whatever speaking to her from dishing out insults.

"What kind of hero are you?"

"Well I'm not, so you can shut up now." Salene told the humid air, still looking for the owner of the voice.

"I would ask you to shoot me, but you'd probably take your eye out!"

Salene sniffed at that one. "Maybe, I don't like handling guns, or shooting at all for that matter."

"What an ugly kill joy."

What? Kill joy, maybe. Ugly? Ha!

"When I find you I'm going to shove my foot up your ass." Salene growled out, standing from her rock.

"Ay, jokes on you, I don't have one!"

"Well then, I guess I'll have to make one." She had already jumped off the rock and was searching through some nearby bushes.

"If that some sort of threat, sissy?"

"It's a promise…" Salene growled. Royally pissed off, but oddly having fun with this 'hide and seek to kick some ass' game.

"You'll never be able to find me." The remark was followed by silence. Salene looked up into the boulders that blocked off a section of the marsh. She spotted something glint and went into '_assassin_' mode; crouching, then disappeared with unnatural speed and skill.

"Hence why I've found you" Salene said the next moment, poking her head in front of the gargoyle's view. "Should have guessed it was a gargoyle." She smirked evilly, appearing upside down as she was above the boulder he was planted on. She pulled herself up then jumped with a little show-offy flip, landing perfectly on her feet in front of the statue head, its eyes still sparkling.

"Well you've found me, good for you." It sounded really sarcastic but that didn't douse Salene's good mood. "So shoot me already."

"Well, I don't think I will" Salene interjected, peering closely at the gargoyle's face.

"Get out of my face with that stench breath!" the gargoyle made for a coughing noise from its still face. Salene ignored him, having already read the tactics of these things from scrolls at the Academy back in Samarkand.

"Are your eyes made of diamond? Maybe I should take them to sell, that way you won't be able to see anymore." Salene teased, poking at its glittering eyes.

"Ow! Oi, back off you crazy git!" the gargoyle sounded nervous with the suggestion. Shame it wasn't able to run away. Salene laughed, patting the stone on the head, and pulled away with a sweet face.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't do that." She made to jump back into the marsh when something caught her attention. The sound of disrupted water from the puddles, someone was coming through the marsh. Intending not to be discovered, Salene jumped behind a rock beside the glittering statue "Shut it, and make no noise or I will take your eyes" she warned just as two figures came into view from the fog.

Salene wasn't necessarily surprised to see Reaver, though she did question why he was here, with a whore wrapped snuggly in his arm.

_Disgusting_.

He was right in the middle of telling a heart-retching tale of how he commandeered an entire ship with one shot when the stupid gargoyle decided to disobey Salene's remark.

"Oi, what'cha got there? Visiting a court today?" The statue snapped at Reaver with a snide voice that startled Salene. I guess this gargoyle really didn't like Reaver. Reaver froze mid-sentence and stepped closer cautiously, looking for the voice with a curl of his lip. The whore at his side looked about equally intrigued by the disruption. With the sparkling eyes betraying his position, Reaver spotted him and pulled out his pistol with his free hand, pointing directly at the gargoyle.

"Thought I already got rid of you." Reaver barked with annoyance, pulling the trigger.

"Blast you, you stupid thing." Salene growled, extending her hand quickly, summoning a weak force push to dislodge the bullet from its otherwise fatal aim. She rushed out from behind the rock, making sure to mislead Reaver and his whore to appear _noisily_ from behind them.

"Maybe you're not as good with that pistol as I thought." Salene remarked smugly, distracting Reaver from the statue to turn and glare at her. The whore appeared momentarily dizzy with Reaver's quick spin around and the pirate king pulled her a little ways from him, fearing she may wretch on his perfect coat. Salene quirked her eyebrow at the scene and caught Reaver's eyes; what rage he held in them quickly vanished as he recognized her, a suggestive smirk on his lips. She ignored the tug at her heart, cursing him for being handsome, and placed her hands on her hips, looking bored. "What are you doing out here, Reaver? I would think this place is to _dirty_ for someone like you."

Reaver ignored the venom in her words, holstering his precious pistol out of sight, and brought the whore back into him after he was sure she wouldn't ruin his coat. "Was going to ask you the same, dear" Reaver remarked. The whore at his side flushed with jealousy as his words and wrapped her small arms about the thief's neck, but Reaver ignored her. "We're simply out on a little stroll" Reaver gestured to the whore with a look of fondness, shame it was fake gesture. "Care to join us?" It was obvious the whore didn't like that suggestion at all; clearing her throat, she brought her lipstick stained lips to the man's neck, seemingly whispering against his skin.

"I'd rather not." Salene looked disgusted at the display of affection and made to turn away, but then thought better of it. Reaver never looked away from her, like she was some sort of delicacy.

"Suit yourself." Reaver turned from her then, the whore looked giddy with his nonchalant disregard for Salene's rejection. Salene stood there while the couple disappeared into the fog, going deeper into the marsh to god's know couldn't be good.

"Good for you." The gargoyle piped up after an uneasy silence, bringing Salene back to the present. How unlike it to not insult people every moment it got.

"And why is that?" Salene questioned, purely puzzled at the statues odd remark, but received no further insight. It was like a cat that no longer found you interesting and curled up in a ball, pretending to be asleep. "Whatever…" Salene turned back, she'd find answer's elsewhere.

::XXX::

The daemon door looked at Salene for a moment, and after what seemed like he was racking his brain for words he sighed. "I have no idea."

"Bull" Salene snapped. Despite the fact that daemon doors were stationary, they _were_ all knowing. The door sighed again.

"You should already know this, Salene" the door eyed her as he spoke "I thought you've read all about him at that university of yours." Salene was ashamed to say that she might of forgotten a bit of what she read. Hey, it had been awhile. She was about to give up when she heard someone coming back from Wraithmarsh. She turned to only see Reaver, no whore in sight, walking back from the marsh with a smug look of success. "Oh no" the daemon door rolled his eyes as he saw Salene stalk up towards the pirate with a fierce look about her.

"And where is that…friend of yours, Reaver?" Salene stumbled over the word whore as she glared at the lone man, gradually remembering things from the text from scrolls Garth had written himself.

"We stumbled to a place she rather liked and decided to stay." Reaver was quick to respond, shrugging his as he did so.

And then it came to her, what Reaver was. "The shadow court" the name left her lips before she could stop them. Her eyes grew wide, her face paled as she locked eyes with Reaver, unable to pull away.

"And how do you know about them?" Reaver's voice grew deadly low, his hand reaching for his pistol.

_Shit. _Her mind refused to think, her feet refused to move. How could she be so careless?

"Don't you dare" It was the daemon door that broke the silence.

"Shut it, you stupid door" Reaver barked, turning his pistol to the door and firing at it. The door merely laughed as if it tickled and Reaver scowled, turning his gun back to where Salene was, or should have been. Instead, there was only air.

Cursing loudly, Reaver unloaded his pistol on the door before stomping away to the tavern to take his rage out on the barman.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

* * *

When the daemon door had distracted Reaver, Salene wasted no time to make a run for it; down the stairs, past the water front, and into the little cavern at the far end of the harbor known as the Sinkhole. Normally, she didn't like venturing in there, but she had several times before. It was a dingy place, smelled of death, and was way too close to the secret passage she knew existed. She made it past the stretch of the ancient pirate harbor with its intriguing technology that could control the water levels. She knew somewhere higher up the cavern was an extension that made up the Captain Dread's old hiding spot. Very convenient, she thought as she looked up to where she knew it was. A rotten, damp ramp still guided the way from the lower levels but the majority of it was now lost at sea during some of the worst storms.

But Salene thought the secluded piece of beach at the passage entrance was rather more convient and peaceful than the cavern's ceiling holes and by far a more relaxing place to hide. (Being a wanderer, discovering supposed secret places was just a natural gift she possessed.) Looking into the sky, Salene felt bad that she would be considered a lair. She told Mickey she would be back by three, but there was no way in hell she was going back into town after the confrontation she had with Reaver. He was probably at the tavern now waiting for her, harassing Mickey, and causing a ruckus. Salene sighed miserably at the thought. _Damn that man, he just ruins everything!_

She plopped onto the sand, bringing her knees up into her chest, and absent mindedly began to twirl a lock of honey brunette hair in her fingers. The ocean seemed calm and gentle waves lapped against the shore, bathing her toes in the salty water. It was cold, sending a shiver up her spine. Suppressing a giggle, she allowed her mind to wonder to more childish things; like sand castles, books piled high like a fort in the study, doing back flips into Bower Lake from the cliffs, things she recalled enjoying. And then Garth flashed into her mind, her mentor. Always serious and imposing; first with her studies of the text, and later when teaching her the ways of the will. There was never any time for fun and play, no doodling when your nose was suppose to be buried in scrolls and books, no creative, flashy shows with the spells she learned from Garth. No, it was all dull work. Even when Garth wasn't around, he always managed to kill her mood.

Standing up, she took a deep breath, _wouldn't Garth like to see this, _she huffed as she braced herself, concentrating on the water lapping before her. Her body became lighter with each passing moment. _Wouldn't he be surprised, _she growled almost out loud as she took a step into the water and then another. Instead of sinking to touch the sandy ocean floor her feet remained planted above the water's surface and she stood there for a moment to take in a contemplated breath before going further out. With each step, ripples played in her wake, catching her amusement. Salene turned back to the shore, noticing that she had gone several feet, and then peered into the water and at the fish that gazed up at her with intrigue. She giggled again, dipping her fingerto break the water's surface and watched as the fish panicked and swam away with haste. She completely forgot about Garth in this moment to simply enjoy the rare moment of peace.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

The peace was rather short lived.

Salene felt him coming, but not wanting to break her concentration and fall into the freezing water, she made no sudden moves to acknowledge him.

"A will user, I see." Reaver's voice was bitter, his pistol pointed lazily at her back. "I had hoped to never see one again."

Salene was slow to rise to her feet and she turned to face his smug look with what she hoped was a look of surprise and hurt. "I'm sorry to ruin that for you." She whispered apolitically as she stepped closer to him. She heard his subtle gasp as their locked eyes. _One too many times today_, Salene thought sourly.

"You again, should have known" There was a glint in his eyes this time as he spoke and Salene was hesitant to close any more distance between them. As if reading her mind, Reaver took it upon himself to walk the remaining feet to the shore line, though making sure not to get his boots wet. Salene rolled her eyes at him, _god forbid if the man scruffs his boots._ "Come along, girl" Reaver gestured with his gun for her to do the same. She would humor him. Never completely dropping her concentration on the water, she slowly sank to the ocean floor as she closed the distance between them, the water still an appreciated buffer that lapped about her ankles as she came to a rest with a comfortable yard from him.

"I would think you would shoot me." Salene taunted, placing her hands on her hips. She eyed the gun as she did so, waiting for Reaver's reaction to the invitation.

"Why would I damage a pretty thing like yourself?" Reaver drawled, taking a step towards her, seemingly to forget about the tide lazily coming in. Salene refused to be intimidated and stood her ground.

"That didn't stop you from scarifying that girl earlier." Salene pressed, still eyeing the pistol drawn in his hand. Reaver took notice, and with a smirk, closed the remaining distance and pressed the cold barrel against her cheek. She refused any emotion to etch her face, not that she didn't feel any, but allowed herself to get lost in the man's piecing gaze.

"This here is my trusted Dragon stomper .48." his voice was husky as he trailed the barrel down to her jaw line. _What a kinky bastard…_

"I'm guessing that's why there are no more dragons in Albion." Salene responded, hoping her voice didn't break as the gun continued its voyage down her throat to her collar bone.

"What an amusing girl" Reaver muttered as he replaced his gun with his mouth, leaving a hot trail of his moist lips at the crook of her neck. Salene nearly screamed at the sudden intrusion and almost toppled into the water, but Reaver griped her arm with his free hand and steadied her. She had never been touch like this before, which was a bit obvious as her knees buckled with all the attention she was receiving. Reaver didn't pull away as he laughed into her neck, putting his dragon stomper away as he did so. "You smell delicious…"

Salene blushed like crazy with his bold remark and proximity. She tried to pull herself away from him but entangled herself further when he slid his hands down to wrap around her waist, keeping her planted as he drew back to look at her. Her eyes were flashing dangerously, but he chose to ignore the silent threat.

"With that disappearing act of yours, you probably didn't hear about the party I'll be throwing tonight." He was dangerously close to her ear, his hot, enticing breath nipped at her earlobe and Salene shivered despite the will against it. "I wanted you to be my guest of honor."

She knew very well that inviting her to a party was the last thing on his mind during their last meeting but the thought fizzled away into a dense fog in her mind when his wet tongue slipped from between his lips to tail up the shell of her ear. Salene gasped and pulled herself violently from his grip, managing to stumble away from him this time with ragged breaths.

"I don't think I care to go." Salene snapped at him, flustered and ashamed at how he had affected her. Reaver looked astonished at her sudden outburst, but quickly composed himself with his trademark smirk.

"I hope to see you there." Reaver quirked his eye brow suggestively, waving his hand absently as if it wouldn't bother him if she showed up or not.

Salene pulled in a breath, biting her tongue against what she yearned to say and turned on her heel, rushing from view too quick for Reaver to comprehend. It was after she left he noticed how sodden his feet were and glanced down to see his now ruined boots looking back up at him from beneath the gentle waves.

* * *

_How dare that disgusting, vile, disgrace of a putrid man touch me!_ She was running out of words to use against him and she was force to look at other, more pressing matters that presented itself. _how could have let him do so? What the hell is wrong with me? _She realized she was stomping about, bringing too much attention to her fit, and forced herself to let out the breath she had been holding. Keeping her temper in check, she made her way back to the tombs, planning on burying her despicable head from society for the rest of her life. As she past the daemon door, she heard him clear his throat. She pulled her gaze from her feet to look miserably at him, though it didn't deter him from continuing to talk to her.

"In your absence, you had a visitor" The daemon door's gruff voice shook her from her stupor.

"A visitor?" Salene repeated quizzically "How is that so? Nobody knows where I…live." Live wasn't a good choice for words but it was still the closest. The door only grumbled as a reply, clearly not planning to respond. With a huff, Salene stocked to her tomb and peered inside to see if whoever it was was still there. "You didn't tell anybody?" she asked, turning back to the door that gave her, 'are you really that stupid?' look.

"Not likely, considering I'm made of stone" It made sense. Before Salene, anyone who witnessed the daemon door talking often just screamed and ran off in the other direction. Salene ventured warily into the tomb, looking about for anything suspicious. As she eyes roamed over to her pallet she noticed a small bundle laying on top of her ragged sheets. Slowly, she knelt down to it; it was a thinly wrapped package with a note card placed on top. Salene pick it up, reading over the contents it presented with fine, clear handwriting:

_I want no excuses; I intend to see you tonight, guest of honor._

There was no signature, not that it needed one. It was clear he wasn't the one that delivered the package though, that's just not something someone like Reaver would do. Besides, he would have much more to say about her state of living if he did. Salene threw the card across the room then turned to the package, dreading what it held. Picking it up, she recognized it to be material.

She unwrapped it, shook it out, and held it out in front of her with a vicious scowl. It was a gown, a fancy, expensive looking one at that. A pair of thin hide flats dyed to match the gown lied on the ground at her feet where it must had fallen during her display. They obviously weren't made to provide any sort of support for her soles but to be as feminine as possible. She kicked at them until they huddled in one of the dirty dark corners like frightened critters. _Can't be seen around such a fine figure of Bloodstone in commoner's garb, _Salene spat to herself with venom as the picture of her fawning in the embrace of the charming pirate popped in her head.

"I am not going to that stupid party." Salene exclaimed, throwing the gown to join its matching shoes in the corner. Outside, she heard the door laughing.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five:

* * *

Needless to say, Salene was beyond angry. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes glowed bright, and her body glistened with sweat as she vent out her frustration on the banshees deep within Wraithmarsh. At first, she was just mindlessly trudging further into the swampy, dismal bog until she stumbled over a plank of wood. Falling into the filthy puddles did nothing for her already foul mood and she let out violent wave of force, displacing the water and even picking up debris from the forsaken Drowned Farm, scattering the remains about her in a loud, obvious manner. Then there was the earth quaking, the bright orbs that summoned the nasty undead, and a persistent whining of a nearby banshee became noticeably louder. _They will be sorely sorry for bothering me today…_

She didn't give them time to act before she concentrated enough energy to blow the brittle ones into dust, the much larger ones; some who possessed will even after death, were knocked off their bony, or fleshy feet. Salene didn't bring herself from what remained of the puddle; rather, she just situated herself into a more comfortable position in the mud and proceeded to pick the remaining vile creatures off one by one with a smile that would have scared her if she had been able to see it. By the last hollow man, the banshee had reared it hooded, but presumably ugly head from the fog, muttering something unintelligible with it raspy whine. Banshee's proved to be more annoying, hiding behind its ankle-biting children as a shield.

Sure, she was livid about Reaver for simply existing. But more over, she couldn't believe how foolishly she had behaved; as if she was just like those other fumbling girls when the twit of a man was near. No, she refused to be among those, refused to let him affect her, refused to go to that bloody waste of a party. She refused!

Fuming again with her self-chastising, she started back towards Bloodstone, very well intending to spite Reaver.

"I'm not going. I'm not going. Damn if I show my face, and damn Reaver for breathing. I. Am. Not. Going."

"Alright, lassy, I heard ye the first hundred times." It was that blasted gargoyle again. Salene turned to him, pointing her finger accusingly at him.

"And you, you piece of stone" Salene growled, marching up the boulders skillfully "If you had done what I told you, I wouldn't be in this mess." She let out a frustrated howl and collapsed to her feet. "And I'm taking your eyes." She added as an afterthought.

"Oh no, mommy, help! Not me eyes!" the gargoyle screeched with sarcasm. If he wasn't made of stone, she would have punched him. "If you hate me so much, why don't you just shoot me?"

"I'd rather you suffer." Salene threatened but made no motion to do so. Instead, she let silence fall between her and the annoying statue and lifted her eyes to the sky. The sun was setting and she couldn't bring herself to move. She looked over to the gargoyle, suspecting he'd be watching her if he could move his glittering eyes. She let out sigh and hid her face in her hands; trying to keep her emotions at bay, trying not to think of Samarkand. Or even Garth.

"You're not going to cry, are you?" the gargoyle asked, breaking the silence. Its sudden gentle voice startled Salene and she looked up at him quizzically.

"No, I'm just tired. I'm going to sleep." She didn't know why, but she was suddenly so tired. The day was just too eventful for her liking. She sprawled out in front of the gargoyle statue, peeking up at him through her lashes. "Could you let me know if someone's coming?" There was no reply, but it didn't really matter because the second Salene closed her eyes, it didn't matter how uncomfortable the ground beneath her was, or how stupid and dangerous it was to let her guard down in the marsh, or for trusting a gargoyle, because she slipped into the darkness before she let out her breath.

* * *

_The Academy was quiet but outside the sun was bright and the birds chirped in ancient tunes that most humans had forgotten. In the courtyard Salene knew children played under the pleasant shade of the trees by the sounds of their squeals of joy. She had no business to join them, or even to think about joining them, but that never stop her before. She sighed a bit too loudly as her gaze wandered off to the open window instead of the texts that lay untouched in front of her._

"_Salene, there's no time to waste lost in thought" The gruff voice shook her from her daydreams and she risked a glace across the room to see that Garth had been watching her. She quickly averted her eyes back to the forgotten text and pretended to thumb through it._

"_You'll lose your place if you keep trying to distract yourself like that" She heard the chair scrape against the stone floor as Garth got up from his chair. "Do you even remember why you're looking through that volume, Salene?" his footsteps echoed against her head as he crossed the short distance to the table she was situated at. Scrolls and books littered a mass majority of the table at the corners in some haphazard attempt at organization and Garth refrained from rolling his eyes at the girl as she slouched over her parchment and quill to review the assignment he had set out for her to do that morning._

_She was thumbing through this book because he had told her too, not that she could simply tell him that without earning a good scolding. She tried to steady her quivering hands as she felt him lean over her work. She always got nervous and antsy when he assigned her research; there were just so many books of ancient folklore and strange cultures, volumes upon volumes of difficult spells and potions with confusing executions and ingredients she never heard of, and scrolls depicting pieces of important discoveries, clips from dairies from both the extraordinary and the mundane, documents of laws and formulas and blueprints. It was all very much overwhelming, even when Garth had the decency to pull out only the texts she would need to go through that day, because even that amount was mind boggling. _

_Her heart thudded violently in her chest just as much as all the other times she came into his study and he handed her the parchment and directed her to the table piled high with neatly stacked books and scrolls. Needless to say, nothing remained neat once she started to work._

_Today Salene was trying to find all the healing spells located in all these texts. According to Garth, there were 49. _

"_Have you separated the texts from the ones that you need?" It was Garth's attempt at helping her and she gave a slight nod, no doubt he saw some rhyme to her madness as he took in the deliberate piles that she has made. Salene was quite proud that she managed to divide the texts into three piles: one that proved to have a lot of information regarding her subject, one that clearing indicated having nothing to do with healing, and a third pile that was iffy to say the least. One such questionable text was a small, worn book that depicted the causes of the previous plagues, their symptoms, and other various details. She speculated that some remedies in the text could be the healing spells she was looking for. _

_Before much else could be said about her poor work ethic, there was a loud knock at the door. Salene jumped in her chair, managing to get a large glop of ink to splatter on her parchment and searched Garth's face as he took a step back from the table. _

"_Come in" Garth's voice was strong as it rang out across the walls and the door quickly opened as if it hadn't really intended to wait for any sort of invitation. Garth's face quickly morphed into something that could only be described as disgust when he saw his visitor. Curious, Salene turned to see a very beautiful and eloquent man at the door. His face was chiseled, smooth, and flawless with gleaming emerald eyes, and he walked into the study with a particular air about him, almost like he owned anywhere he happened to be. A cocky grin graced his features as he took in Garth standing maybe protectively over a small girl at the table littered with so much junk he was impressed it had not toppled over her._

_The fact that Garth had tensed at the sight of this stranger set her on edge. Although strict, her mentor had an easy going nature with his clients and the fact that she could very much tell that Garth would rather shock the man's head till his eyebrows singed off and his eyes boil out of their sockets instead of conversing with him seemed too much out of character. These two had a past, and probably a very sticky one. _

_How Salene would have loved to stay to solve the puzzle that was unfolding before her but Garth turned to her rather sharply then and told her that she could leave, which was increasingly odd because rarely did his business needed to be discussed so privately that she needed to be gone. Knowing better than to ask questions, she quietly removed herself from her chair. She meant to keep her head down as she passed the strange man but couldn't help but look up at him. Their eyes met but he seemed to almost be looking right past her, like she wasn't even there. It was incredibly disconcerting. _

_As she made it to the corridor, Salene turned around to peer into the study one last time as Garth waved his hands and the door slowly creaked closed. She held her mentors steady gaze before he turned to address his guest rather rudely._

"_What do you want Reaver?"_

"_Getting friendly with the little girls, are we?" replied a velvety yet arrogant voice. It rang out like taunting laughter._

_The door closed, cutting off the conversation in the study, and leaving Salene to stand in the corridor feeling cold before she walked off to the courtyard to play with the other children._

* * *

"Stupid girl…" Salene could hear the gargoyle muttering lowly. She stirred a little from the cold spot where she lay; her dream still clinging to her. Night had defiantly fallen, but she couldn't tell just how long she had been asleep.

"Get up." The statue was a bit louder this time, though its voice sounded hushed. Salene tensed, immediately alert; straining her ears to pick up any unusual sounds. Somewhere close, a steady _thump, thump, thump_ reverberated beneath her. _Footsteps, _she concluded, _and they're coming closer._ Salene remained silent, her head reeling with tactics and deductions; _it can't be a hollow man, they don't know how to shut up and this thing has stealth going for them…banshee's don't walk around…and I've never seen a normal creature roam these parts…_ and then the most ludicrous idea came to her; _no-no it couldn't be him._

Then the footsteps stopped. Salene steadied her breathing, wondering if she had been spotted.

"You can't keep pretending to be asleep forever." It was Reaver's deep, cocky voice. Salene suddenly felt light headed. _I can't believe this! What is he doing here? Is he stalking me? _

"Yes I can." Salene retorted but peered up into the shadowy figure that was the pirate king. "Shouldn't you be at your party?" She heard him chuckle as he approached her, gradually her eyes became adjusted in the dim moonlight and she could see emerald eyes bright with amusement.

"I could ask you the same; you were the guest of honor." Reaver shrugged like it didn't really bother him. _Wonder why he's here then_, Salene mused bitterly. As if reading her mind, he elaborated "The party was grand, shame you couldn't make it. It officially ended when the last pretty girl passed out on my bed." He sighed to himself like he missed it. Leaning on a boulder, he continued to smile at her as if waiting for a response. When he didn't receive one, he appeared to take interest in his nails and continued "Didn't anyone ever teach you manners?" he teased, wagging his fore-finger at her like she was some naughty child. The motion made her blush.

"Regrettably, Garth was all work and no play…"

"Garth?" His voice reflected back at her, his interest peaked at the name of his old acquaintance. "Tell me, how do _you_ know the old man?" _Of course he wouldn't remember._

"Old?" Salene snorted, "Who are you calling old, you'll like three hundr-" Salene closed her mouth abruptly when she realized she had said too much again. Reaver hadn't said anything, but she could feel the glare he was giving her. "Garth was my mentor back at the Academy of Samarkand…" she finished weakly.

"What kind of mentor?" was there a hint of suggestion behind that question? Salene gave him a disgusted look and he shrugged his shoulders at her. "Just a question."

"I was studying to be a scholar." She said matter-of-factly. "One day, Garth received a package from a certain Sparrow", Salene added snidely, noticing how Reaver's eyes narrowed as he pick up on the name, "It just so happened that there was a diary among other documents she had sent to him."

"What?" Reaver roared suddenly, startling Salene who gasped at his outburst. "And, what? He let you read it?" He looked like he was about to strangle her, or at least attempt to before she hurtled him across the swamp.

"Not exactly. After I found out the contents of the diary, I snuck it from his library." Salene mused, looking very much like a child caught red-handed. "It wasn't pretty when Garth found out…"

"Good, serves you right." Reaver was still glaring daggers at her, but she was getting tired of it, tired of him. And thinking about the dairy started to bring up memories she wasn't quite sure she liked.

"Well, you got what you wanted; now you can leave me alone." Salene snapped, standing up suddenly.

"Hardly." Reaver replied, towering over her as she tried to pass him, that same cocky smirk once again displayed on his lips and a glint in his eye that left her uneasy.

"Do you even know my name?" Salene blurted, enraged by his imposing behavior; why couldn't this man just leave her the hell alone?

"Of course, Salene." Reaver coed, reaching for a stand of loose hair, but Salene jerked away, out of reach. "That git at the tavern was asking about you all day. I promised him I'd fetch you myself." Reaver added, folding his arms across his chest, looking bored again.

_Mickey, _Salene flushed at his words, unable to tame the anger engulfing her in time, raw energy leaked from her and lash about her like fiery whips. Even though little had slipped, Reaver staggered back from the sheer force of it. Terrified at her sudden loss of control and the repercussions that were sure to follow, Salene fled for the tavern before Reaver could stop her. Twice now she had managed to hurtle him about like he was nothing, and Reaver was far from nothing as far as he was concerned.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

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As the days trickled by, and with no further incidences with a certain Reaver, Salene found herself able to relax during the day as things went back to normal; or at least to an extent. She couldn't help but notice another, more delicate, problem rear its ugly head during the otherwise inactive span of time. Her nights began to leave her edgy and she woke so often that she realized she wasn't getting enough sleep between her tossing and turning and frequent dreaming. Most of the locals didn't say anything about the bags under her eyes or her less than chipper mood as she served out their poison in peculiar silence, either not caring or too drunk to notice, but she knew Mickey noticed and probably suspected Reaver was the cause. It wasn't strange at all that Reaver still managed to snag the spot light even when he wasn't actually there.

And just like Reaver, he wasn't helping to ebb away any doubt on his part. Not once did he force his presence on the tavern after their last encounter, which was unusual for him when that's where most of the whore's gathered to pick up clients. Salene was a bit pleased with this, she got a break from the bastard who would no doubt have something to say if he got a proper look at her, but as his absence grew, so did Mickey's suspicion. He was at the point where he was throwing worried looks at Salene every few minutes and it was only the look she gave back at him that kept him quiet.

After a week had gone she concluded that Reaver was blatantly avoiding her just as much she was of him, which was fine except for the few occasions they did cross paths at the waterfront. They would lock eyes only for a moment; Salene's face would twist into a deliberate scowl while Reaver stared blankly at her like he didn't recognize her. Then that wicked smile claimed his features and she felt like some prey a predator was toying with before the kill. That smirk always gnawed at her, it made her skin crawl. And it always ended with Salene jerking her head away, refraining the tremble his presence instilled in her but wanting nothing more than to turn back and catch him still looking.

This had all become some sick game for him and it was beginning to unsettle her. Her body was already becoming susceptible to the hero blood that pulled them to each other and she couldn't continue to take the mental charades he was forcing her to play. It was like jumping through flaming hoops and hoping you don't get burned. (And Salene was out of practice). Mickey had stopped pestering her about her and Reaver for the most part after the numerous disgusted looks it earned him but he continued to keep a close eye on her, giving her side long glances whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

_Why is everyone staring?_ Salene huffed, both unnerved and annoyed after a particularly stressful evening at the tavern. "Is there something on my face?" Salene snapped at Mickey after catching one of his curious glances. She couldn't cover up the bitter sarcasm that traced her question and Mickey's eyes widened at her show. A deep frown creased his face, making him look so much older in the bad light, and he appeared to be suddenly fascinated with his cracked, calloused hands in a fashion that indicated he was battling an emotion he didn't want lashing out. Salene immediately rushed to him, regretting her outburst, and made to apologies when he beat her too it.

"Caught me" He mused, chuckling lowly at his ill luck. "And no, there's nothing on that pretty face of yours." He let out a hearty laugh when he took in Salene's shocked face. "You've just haven't been acting right ever since Reaver came back" a dangerous gleam of barely contained rage flashed in his eyes as he mentioned the pirate. "And I've been making it worse with all my worrying. But I can't help it Salene." He added, searching her face for something. A tear trailed down Salene's cheek and she made to reach up to gently take his arm when a loud grunt of a drunken thug broke the moment.

"Oi, lady, get yer ass over here." the dingy man slurred and slammed his empty mug on the counter, which proceeded to lose grip of the drunk and clattered on the floor. Mickey gave the man a death glare he didn't seem to process and continued to shout profanities to both Salene and the mug still on the floor. Salene sighed and turned to the drunkard with a false smile plastered on her face. He began demanding a free beer since his other one fell, neglecting the obvious fact that it was already empty, but was quite suddenly held at the throat in one of Mickey's fists.

"Can't you see we're a little busy?" Mickey spat dangerously, his eyes almost red with anger. The thug struggled for his pistol but Mickey slammed him against the counter, dazing him and leaving a bloody smear across the wood surface. Fellow thugs at the bar looked up at the scene but made no action to take part for their comrade.

It was at this moment Salene realized there was a reason why Mickey was not a Bowerstone man like she often compared him to. Witnessing the first terrifying encounter with Mickey's rage just brought to light all the things she already knew but just didn't seem to comprehend until now; the Mickey she knew wasn't the Mickey that earned the fear and respect from the people of Bloodstone, this Mickey she saw now, choking a man from across a bar counter. And yet this man was still her Mickey because he was doing all this because that asshole had disrespected her and interrupted a very important conversation.

"Mickey" Salene pleaded in a meek voice when the thug started to rake his dirty nails at Mickey's fist, gurglingly with a bloody mouth gasping for air and eyes slightly rolled back. Startled, Mickey looked at her and threw the man back across the counter, where he fell in a heap on the floor, wheezing. Salene grabbed Mickey's hand and pulled him away from the counter as the thug slowly made his way back up, but he didn't seem interested in getting into another scrap with the barman and limped his way out of the tavern, accompanied by several jeers and hollering.

"Mickey, are you ok?" Salene couldn't help but ask, tears streaking down her face, "I'm so sorry." She tightened her hand in his large one and wiped at the tails on her cheeks. Mickey cupped her face with his free hand and gently guided her face to look at him.

"Salene, just tell me what's wrong."

Salene nearly choked on a sob when she looked into the man's eyes. When had he become such a father to her, when had she let him?

"It's not just Reaver, really." She whispered, "I've been having a hard time, I can't sleep."

"Dreams_?"_ Mickey asked gently. He felt Salene tense under his touch and in her eyes he thought he saw something impossible, they seemed to glow dully under her lashes. She stood so still she appeared to be lost a million miles away. And in fact, she almost was. It was normal for her to dream of her past more often than not but with the sudden increase of them she couldn't help but to think about Samarkand, Garth, or her parents. And to top it off, her dreams were strangely becoming more vivid each passing night, she even worried sometimes that she had fallen into the past during some of them. She rarely had so much activity kick up and she knew there was a catalyst. She knew it was the blood in her veins and in the veins of another certain person.

"Salene?" Mickey asked, concerned. "Hello, are you still in there?"

"It's so much more than that" Salene whispered in a voice that sounded so far from her own but abruptly shook free from the memories grasping at her. Her eyes wide, she looked up to meet the old man's faltering stare, so ridden with distress that she felt ashamed to be the cause of it. "I'm fine." She stepped back from him with a bright smile on her face and patted at his hand reassuringly before she pulled away. "I'm sorry to worry you so much, but you don't need to."

"Bullshit." Mickey rolled his eyes and pulled her into an awkward embrace, crushing her hands against his abdomen, but he didn't seem to share in her awkwardness when he chuckled at her vain attempts to wiggly out.

"People will start thinking things." Salene whined, giving up and slumped into his body with a pout.

"Let them think." Mickey barked, but pulled away from her to peer down at her wary face, "Maybe then Reaver will leave you alone." Salene gapped at him in shock but it quickly morphed into a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. She placed her hand on his bicep and peered up at him through her lashes, not wanting to completely meet his gaze.

"You shouldn't worry about me so much." Salene assured him. "I've been wandering for two years now. I've seen terrible things, killed countless banshees, hollow men, bandits, and sorts; even some nasty trolls." She smiled to herself, absently recalling all the battles she'd been through. "When I left Samarkand, I went through the most brutal storms the sea could give us; I've been to Bowerstone, to Westcliff, and Knothole. I've gotten lost for weeks in Brightwood, trapped by slavers then proceeded to set their hairs on fire."

Mickey looked somewhere along the lines of awed, horrified, and confused by her story. Salene pulled her hand from him. "I've been too scared too-" she lost her voice and had to clear her throat before she tried again. "I trust you Mickey; you've been like the father I never had. Just-just look at me." Her voice shook as she spoke, her entire body trembled. Alarmed and confused, he looked at her; and at first he saw nothing unusual. Then he noticed that flash in her light brown eyes again. Something stirred within their dark depths until it grew, her eyes lightened to a soft hazel, then a rich caramel color that appeared to shimmer like golden flakes, and remained to glow slightly.

"It wasn't unusual to not bare Will lines in the past, "Salene started to explain, "It was better that way to blend in, an advantage against those who mean to harm you. I never wanted to be a hero, I never wanted anyone to know…" the air around her seemed to spark, a slight pressure rose and engulfed them both, but she was careful to not let anything be visible in case they were being watched. Mickey was speechless; he made to reach out to her, and then thought better of it, shaking his head. The motion stung at her heart.

"Salene?" his low voice held disbelief and he looked at her as if he had just met her for the first time. Hurt, Salene dropped her will, her eyes returned to their dull shade of honey. Before she could turn her back to him and run for the door, ashamed and heartbroken, he snatched her into his arms, holding her so tightly against him she couldn't breathe, and she let him this time. "You're such a stupid girl" Mickey muffled against her honey colored hair.

"Everyone's been calling me that lately" Salene commented against his chest, her warm breath seeped into his clothes and skin when she breathed against him. Mickey gave out a vigorous laugh, his chest vibrating against her and she shook slightly with it.

"I care nothing for what you are. But for who you are." He pulled her away to look at her face, which once again revealed the tears tailing her red cheeks. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as he smiled at her.

Salene had lost her parents to the bandit raid when she was only seven and when Garth had come across the slavers in the woods of Brightwall and saved her and the others, she had nothing left in her but to follow him. At first he was completely against the whole idea of being stalked by a child but after a few relentless days he realized Salene wasn't planning on going anywhere. It was also during this time that the hero blood began to pull at him, and he realized what she was.

Garth was still in Albion instead of Samarkand because he had decided to direct Therese's spire shortcut to his tower to retrieve his academic journals before he embarked on his journey home. There was no way he could rely on anyone to go through his study and pick up the right things without creating disaster so he took it upon himself and risked the extended voyage that would result of it. He had no idea that his luggage would be increasingly heavy after he set free the slaves he came across while on his way to Oakfield and he wasn't entirely generous of heart when he accepted to take little Salene with him.

Salene was brought up by the scholars of the Samarkand Academy, who were always gentle but never that affectionate. Garth began rigorous training of study into the first month she arrived and she immediately took advantage of what she had, burying herself into books and thriving on their knowledge, but never at the pace Garth expected of her. She missed her family and village dreadfully but Garth never gave her enough time to dwell in mourning, stating that her tears will not bring them back but she could still make them proud if she worked hard. Wanting so much to impress her savior and her loved ones now watching over her from above, Salene made a point to solely concentrated on her present and future, striving to be something more. Then at age nine, not even two years into her studies, Garth had appointed her as his full apprentice. That had changed so many things for her, twisted her path into something unintelligible, for study was suddenly less important compared to the other lessons she would have to learn.

Salene left Samarkand to return to her homeland at seventeen and had been wandering ever since, never staying too long in any place and never letting anyone close. She didn't know, or even cared, where she was going; that being the whole idea of a wanderer. Though all of that changed when she scrambled out of a crate from a ship, hiding as stow away, at the Bloodstone harbor. It was a society with no rules, no restrictions, and no morals. The grimy, raunchy people and the neglected features of the town were the realest things she had ever witnessed; there was no mask concealing their faults with glamour like that of Bowerstone or the prestige walls of the Academy, and the people seemed to revel in it. She had never seen or experienced anything like it, and she was utterly fascinated. Then she met the most fascinating person in the most fascinating place in all of Albion; Mickey. Salene truly believed she had been blessed by the gods for finding Mickey, or him finding her. Whichever way, she felt like he had saved her. She finally had a father.

"Oh, it seems that I have walked in on a private moment."

The voice startled the both of them and they hastily took a measure of distance from one another. Salene blushed and she fumbled to herself, _of course this had to get all awkward. _She jerked her head sharply; knowing all too well who the voice belonged to, and caught his gleaming emerald eyes boring into hers. Only for a moment did she manage to forget about the vile man and here he shows up as if an alarm went off in his head. _Oh, can't let Salene have a moments peace, must be reminding her that I'm still very much here._

Reaver's expression was unreadable as Salene glared at him and she noticed his fingers twitch at his side, flexing for his dragonstomper. And then, just as quickly as he showed up, he was gone, out the door and out of sight. But she still heard a gun fire off somewhere disturbingly close.

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	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

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Salene had half the mind to go after Reaver but Mickey had plenty of mind to hold her back when she went after him. Yanking her back roughly, causing her to lose her balance and nearly stumble over backwards. She looked at Mickey, her eyes questioning and noticeably brighter.

"You don't honestly think that's a good idea, do you?" Mickey asked her, though Salene still looked convinced that teaching Reaver a lesson once and for all was a perfectly logical idea.

"Of course it is" Salene blurted, "that man has another thing coming if he thinks he can go around shooting people." And with that she pulled herself away from Mickey and ran out to the Waterfront. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a warm pinkish glow across the sky. There was no Reaver in sight, who no doubt was off to his manor up the hill. She wasn't interested in Reaver at the moment, finding the one Reaver's dragonstomper had pierced proved to be more important. Finding the fallen victim was an easy task considering he was just outside the door, at the steps that lead to the harbor. Salene rushed to him, guilt flooding her conscious even though she wasn't the one who pulled the trigger; she felt responsible for being the one who spurred Reaver into action. At a closer look, she could see through the grim that he was actually barely a man, at least her age for even younger.

A puddle of thick, warm blood had already begun to pool beneath his limp body. Salene chocked as the strong metallic smell invaded her nostrils, and she reached with trembling hands for the man's coat, which was soaked in blood. _Reaver had got him good, _Salene had to admit as she tore at the shirt to examine the wound. The man's chest was still rising and falling with shaky breath but the bullet had imbedded itself somewhere in his gut, proving to be fatal. Salene had read books on the spells of healing, though she never learned much of it. She had only learned the basics for healing cuts, mending bones, and curing common ailments. She didn't think she could heal this man with such a wound.

Mickey stood behind Salene, quiet for a moment as he watched her. She placed her hand over the bullet wound, sucking in a deep breath. A gurgling gasp escaped the fallen man's mouth and Salene retrieved her hand from his body as if burnt, clutching at something Mickey couldn't see until she opened her fist to reveal the metal bullet still coated in blood.

"I've never mended organs before." Salene said quietly, looking to Mickey as if seeking his help. "This-this is my fault." Salene cried as she turned back to the fallen man.

"Salene, there may be nothing anyone can do." Mickey knelt beside her, looking at the man. He peered closely at the wound, still bleeding. "Can you stop the bleeding?" he asked.

"I don't know how, I'm afraid that if I do any more it might just make things worse." Salene admitted softly, never looking away at the man face.

Then quite suddenly, Salene leapt to her feet, looking bright eyed at Mickey, "I know what to do." She nearly jumped with joy, digging into her pockets and shoveling a handful of gold into Mickey's hand. "I'm buying a bed, bound him and take him back to the tavern. I'll be right back." Salene didn't give him a chance for object before she dashed off into town, running as fast as she could without her assassin rush. Your Health is Low was probably closing but she didn't bother as she burst through the door of the store and rushed to the counter. Kane, the shop owner jumped at the outburst but quickly compelled himself to a dingy glare as he took in Salene's face.

"We're closed, now get lost." Kane snapped, always a rude one. And he wondered why he had no business. That and his potions soared at outrageous prices.

"I don't think so." Salene snarled back at him, "I need your Cure All potion."

"We're out, maybe some other time." Kane moved from the counter but Salene grabbed for the collar of his shirt, pulling him across the splintery wood.

"Bull shit, I know you keep a stash in the back for when you get high and I'll pay." She threw him back against the wall and reached into her pocket again, pulling out what was left; one thousand gold. She had worked for two months on that and now it was gone for the life of a stranger. Kane straightened himself up, smoothing out his shirt, glaring at her all the same.

"Follow me then." Kane didn't wait for her, turning his on his heel, he walked to the back of the shop. He pulled out a small key when he stopped in front of a door made of thin pine; something easy to brake. Salene rolled her eyes as the man seemed to take his time unlocking the door, slowly turning the handle and wading into the dark room.

"That's it, hurry up." Salene grabbed at the pistol holstered at his waist, pulling it from him before he could react, and pointed it at his head as his wide eyes locked with hers. "Don't think I don't know what you doing, Kane. Now if I were you, I would speed it up before my finger gets itchy for the trigger." Salene goaded, motioning for him to move along with the gun. In all honesty, she had no idea how to use a gun and had never held one before now. Needless to say though, Kane wasted no time in fetching a vile of clear liquid from a cupboard and tossed it over to her. Salene caught it with one hand, stuffed it in her pocket and pulled out the gold she had offered earlier.

"I'm sorry I had to do this." Salene said even though Kane didn't deserve an apology and threw both the gold and the pistol at him, then raced to the door, not wanting to know what would happen if he retrieved the pistol. He would probably shoot her without question the next time they met. She would worry about that later; he's too busy picking up all the gold in that dark room of his. Salene ran to the tavern, darted through the opened front door that allowed a draft from the ocean to cool the muggy bar and up the stairs where several beds were bunked.

Cassie, a middle aged barmaid Salene didn't know very well looked up where she peered over a bed where the wounded man laid motionless on top of the wrinkled sheets. Cassie's face was red as though she had been crying and another sting of guilt washed over her as she looked into the woman's eyes. She didn't talk to most of the other women Mickey employed because they tended to act like they didn't like her because she was an outsider, the youngest girl working there, and made the most tips. Cassie was an outsider as much as she was and a lot of the other woman teased her for it while Salene managed to avoid the taunts because she was so close to Mickey.

"You know him?" Salene asked as she brought out the vile of potion from her coat. "Here, he needs to take this." She handed it to Cassie who gave her a weak smile before tending to the man.

"Yes, he was my brother's best friend." Cassie looked back to Salene after she empted the liquid down his throat. He coughed a bit, spitting up a little of the potion which slowly started to drip down his chin. "They went off together to find adventure and riches and eventually got employed as sailors at the port of some sleazy town (that town clearly being Bloodstone). After months without a correspondence from my brother I got so worried that I came here to look for him. I had no idea he had actually become a pirate. When I asked around, nobody knew who I was talking about, but said that the ship he was supposedly sailing under sunk by some freak storm. I waited here for his return but only Markus came back."

Salene was speechless; Bloodstone truly was a despicable place, especially for young boys seeking fortunes. They must have been fifteen when they went off. "I'm sorry" her face was solemn as she watched Cassie fix up Markus's pillow and wiped at the potion from his chin.

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Two Weeks Later:

Salene was thumbing through the pages of the only book she possessed; A Hero's Tale. It was a lengthy thing that depicted every great hero and their battles with absurd accuracy and detail right down to which toe Briar Rose stubbed while running after a horde of Hobbes attacking Barrow Fields or that as a child, Thunder would lock his sister in a trunk and forget her for hours at a time. It was a book of many authors, scholars who picked up the book after the last to continue the history with the little help of necromancy. Salene had studied the contents of the book her whole life. The various handwritings shifted through generations and she could tell that the last owner had been a busy one, having scrolled his work to the very last page.

After becoming Garth's apprentice, he had given her the book, encouraging her to continue it despite having already been finished. _"History is ongoing and if not documented, can be lost. A gap in history is the lost of knowledge and growth. But of course I want you to read it first." _She remembered him telling her when she commented on the books state. She had been embarrassed and nodded her head weakly before he dismissed her from his study.

Salene flipped the book to view its smooth backing then opened to the last page, reviewing the text inscribed in fine, curvy writing. Bound inside the back cover was a makeshift folder she had glued onto it to hold parchment. She had used up the last of it a long while ago since last she visited Bowerstone. Parchment was both difficult to find and expensive but nothing new had taken place since the defeat of Lucien and the Tattered Spire. Luckily, she didn't have to call for the dead for an interview; that's how some of the authors met a quick demise.

Salene closed the book again and placed it on the sand beside her. She was sitting at the secluded beach again, this time waiting. She had been here for the past several nights, not being able to sleep properly anyway for it to make a difference. The only nights she was able to sleep without her dreams tormenting her where when she had been close to Reaver earlier that day. He had somehow become a remedy to her ever growing ailment. Then again, it was entirely his fault for coming back and triggering it in the first place.

Salene knew that Reaver would show up tonight though, or at least she hoped. The pull in her veins were beginning to burn in a strange, but pleasant way as the time went by. Trying to distract herself from the ache, she looked out to the horizon, where the sky met the ocean and imaged how fun it would be to dance on the ocean's surface just as the twinkling stars. She didn't realize that she was smiling at the thought until her face fell at the sound of someone walking on the sand behind her.

"What do we have here, a little stray?" Reaver stood not a foot away from her. He was so close that if he had wanted to he could reach and touch her, or kick her. Salene turned to examine his sharp but handsome features; which appeared luminous in the moon's soft glow.

"I've been waiting for you, Reaver." Salene said as she turned to face the ocean again, presenting one of two things: That she was submitting to him or that she wasn't scared of him. She was surprised by his actions; very much expecting to be shot in the back, when he sat down beside her, bringing one knee up and resting his arm on it.

"Ay? And why are you waiting for me here?" Reaver mused, looking her over like a predator as she chewed on her bottom lip. He enjoyed watching her shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "Too shy to knock on my front door" He laughed as he saw Salene flush at his words.

"No, it's nothing like that" Salene snorted, drawing her knees to her chest, feeling completely exposed with Reaver's constant stare. "I have business to discuss with you."

Reaver chuckled; obviously thinking about a different kind of business than she had in mind. "Go on" his voice was husky, almost unnerving Salene to the point where she wanted to forget it and run. If it wasn't for the constant questions that raked her brain every time she thought of him, she wouldn't bother to be here. But she needed to know (and that mentality was all Garth's fault).

"I heard that you're sailing out soon" Salene started, watching him from the corner of her eye, "To knothole and Oakfield."

"Among other places" Reaver shrugged "Why?" His eyes were dark, still boring holes into hers. She forced herself to lock eyes with him, a soft smile plastered on her lips.

"I'm interested in joining you on your voyage."

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	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

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"What?" It was the enraged voice of Mickey that reverberated against the wooden walls of the tavern. Both Salene and Mickey were in his private room but that didn't stop his voice from shaking the entire building. Cassie had volunteered to keep an eye at the bar when Salene blundered in and started to drag Mickey upstairs saying she had something of real importance to discuss. Of course, those loyal patrons watching sniggered to each other thinking of much more perverse _discussions_.

"So you're going with him" Mickey continued to shout, "Never mind that the man is a fucking demon." Mickey always avoided cussing in front of the ladies so she knew that he was beyond the breaking point.

"Yes" Salene answered simply, which seemed to enrage the barman further, "It's my job." As Salene said this she pulled out the book she had placed in her skirts. Mickey looked down at it, puzzled, before she continued, "I left Samarkand because I'm supposed to travel the world in search of heroes. I can't do that if I stay here." Salene handed the book to him and he gently cradled it in his large, callused hands as if he was afraid to break it; obviously, Mickey didn't come across books very often. Mickey looked down at the cover, carefully fingering the elegant engravings then flipped the cover open to inspect the front page; _A Hero's Tale_.

"It was given to me by my mentor" Salene informed him, "when I was still his apprentice." She watched him as he flipped through the pages "It is a never ending book that documents the history of the heroes and now it was been passed onto me."

"Reaver is mentioned in here…"

"Of course, he has to be. He_ is_ the hero of skill" Salene scoffed, amused at the fact that the egotistical, attention seeking whore didn't want people to know that he was a hero. "Point is; I must travel to find my heroes to document them. True heroes are not found in towns soaking up the glory." thinking of Reaver as she said this, "they are out in the world."

"Ok, but why do you have to leave with him?" Mickey sounded utterly miserable as he handed her back the worn book.

"Like I said, Reaver's a hero, (a terrible one) and heroes tend to attract adventure and other heroes. He's my lure and my free ride." Salene wasn't ever going to admit that the blood raging in her called for the man.

"I promise I'll come back."

* * *

"So, off you go again, out into the world." The gruff voice of the Daemon Door carried on as Salene went through her possessions, a pathetic amount really. As she reappeared from the dim looking tomb that had been her home for the past months she carried a satchel flung over her back.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Daemon Door" Salene ignored the doors bickering and gave him a bright smile.

"And not once have you ever asked how it is to open me…" the Daemon Door continued, almost rolling his big stony eyes at the girl standing before him.

Salene let the bag slump to the ground as she observed the door, "I never asked because I didn't want you to go."

"Well that's rather selfish of you."

"Maybe" Salene laughed at the Daemon Door's bitter remark, "But I'll bite, how do I open you?"

"Music, my dear selfish child" the door answered.

"Music?" Salene repeated, puzzled, "Why music?"

"Because you have no idea how dull it gets being here for hundreds of years with only drunken men and stupid birds" the door nearly cried, "Oh how I long for a beat, a rhythm, a simple tune that's so different from the mediocre life that surrounds me."

Salene snickered at the rather theatrical response, "I never knew. But I don't know how to play any instruments."

"You truly are daft," the door proclaimed, "Child, if you bring to me any means of music I would be at peace."

Salene felt a wave of guilt hit her at the Daemon Door's words, "I'm sorry. That's pretty selfish of me" she chewed her bottom lip and focused on her feet. "Well I know some lullabies from Samarkand I can sing" she muttered after a moment, suddenly quite shy at the prospect of singing to anyone, even a door.

"That will do then" the door replied promptly and fell silent, waiting for her to start. Salene felt the embarrassment creep up along her neck and cheeks and after a moment passed without any song, the door cleared his non-existing throat with impatience. "Well."

"Give me a break; I'm not a professional singer." Salene cried in exasperation "Just don't mock me if I royally ruin the song" she pleaded and the Daemon Door scoffed.

"Just like a human, too self conscious." The comment earned him a glare and he rolled his eyes. "Alright" he sighed.

Salene closed her eyes and took a deep breath to settle her nerves, than she began to sing to the Daemon Door.

"_Have you ever bled for sorrow?_

_Can you bare the silence here?_

_In the depths of this moment,_

_Do you dare believe in me?_

_Do you long for truths be told?_

_Can you handle such a feat?_

_Open boundaries of your heart,_

_Infinite yet incomplete._

_Am I all alone here?_

_Do you dare rescue me_

_In all the depths of sorrow_

_When all I am is all you see?"_

Silence emanated around them as she finished, the crackling of magic spurred by the song licked at her skin and filled the air like a hazy fume. She knew there was an ancient power in the old words but she hadn't thought it would bring about this much magic.

"Surprised?" asked the Daemon Door. "Don't be, ancient magic is always dormant around us and its enchantments such as that Fae song there that awakens it. I thought someone such as yourself would be more careful." He still managed to scorn her even if it wasn't her actual voice he was criticizing.

"Promise breaker" Salene griped, crossing her arms and trying to ignore the abating magic that continued to brush against her and constrict her senses.

"You said not to mock your voice, not your choice of song. If that's the kind of things human's sing to their children I wouldn't be surprised it half of them are kidnapped during the night by nymphs."

"I actually wouldn't know if people actually sing Fae songs without discretion, no one ever sang to me." Salene said defensively, then added "And besides, you're ancient Fae magic, I thought it was suitable."

"Sly one" The Daemon Door roared with laughter "it is quite suitable, but not just because I'm an enchanted door." If he wasn't made of stone, Salene would think his eyes would sparkle like that of a mischievous gargoyle right about now.

"What do mean by that?" she inquired but he only shook his head.

"You'll see." With that, a loud crack reverberated in the air and the Daemon Door closed his eyes as he split in two. Salene jumped back as the door started to part open, revealing a swirling vortex that was a portal to some unknown, but incredibly enchanted place.

When everything settled, a pang of loneliness shot through Salene as she looked at the place she had familiarized as the Daemon Door's face. The lost that clutched at her chest was slightly overwhelming; she didn't expect to miss him so suddenly. He was, after all, technically still there, just split in halves and possibly asleep.

Salene slowly made her way to the lazy swirling portal, an invisible pull was steadily growing the closer she got and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. She closed her eyes tightly and extended her hand to the vortex, then took a step forward to the other side. When she next opened her eyes she could hardly contain her gasp of joy. She was in the most serene landscapes she had ever seen. A blanket of soft snow covered the ground and weighed at the trees. She was at the foot of a winding, white path beneath the parting of tall trees that seemed to bow to make an arch. It was breath taking. She checked behind her to see that the portal continued to swirl at her back and set forth to the end of the trail.

As she rounded the last smooth bend Salene saw the path open to an adorably quant cottage. The roof was covered with snow along with the rims of each window where warm light shown through. The door was wide open, perceiving that someone was outside and had forgotten to close it behind them. She couldn't think it was a bad sign, the place looked too peaceful and happy for anything bad to happen here. The snow gently fell out here in the open and the flakes landed delicately in her hair and clothes as she made her way to the front door with a light skip to her step. She stopped short from entering and quietly peered around her, looking for whoever owned the place.

"Hello, anyone here?" Salene called out. Without a reply she slowly passed through the threshold and was about to call out again when a heavy sense of dread washed over her, stopping her in her tracks. In the blink of an eye, the warm, cozy cottage turned dark and dank. Salene let out a started scream and fell back out of the cottage. She quickly realized with a terrified glance around her that something very bad happened. The sky was a depressing gray and the land was covered with decay; the trees were dead, bones littered the dead grass, and a faint hint of lingering death flared at her nostrils.

She didn't need a hint to tell there was death here and she looked back up at the once delightful cottage; it now looked absolutely appalling and dilapidated. The wood of the home had rotten with mold and every window was broken with razor edges of glass protruding from the frame and covered with a thick layer of grime, the door hung precariously from its hinges. She got a sinking feeling she was somewhere deep in Waithmarsh.

Salene cautiously ventured back into the cottage and took in the state of the front room. It was just like the abandon homes of the drowned farm. What little furniture there was scattered the room in broken heaps, books and other personal items appeared thrown about like the place had been ransacked, and a large portion of the remaining wallpaper hung off the walls with neglect and age. A dangerous looking stairway at her left lead up to the second story and she carefully made her way up the creaking steps, jumping over putrid skeletons that continued to give off the smell of fatality despite having already completely decomposed.

_Everything here must be laced in a curse_.

At the top of the steps appeared to be a loft. The dismal gray of the sky could been seen through the beams of the ceiling while several more had fallen, one occupied the sole, soiled bed which had gave in to the sheer weight of the beam and another stood almost erect against the opposite wall. Slowly, Salene found her way through the debris to the bed. Beneath the beam there was a poor crushed skeleton and she cringed at the thought of something falling on her while sleeping (her tomb was pretty risky business). Beside the bed there were several more bones and she went to investigate the trail to the second fallen beam.

At closer inspection, she could see the beam had made a small alcove of the wall. There in the center of the space was a chest covered in growth and even more full body skeletons draped over it. Bracing herself, she pushed aside the fleshless corpses, who clattered on the ground in dusty heaps and threw the chest open. The smell of decay hit her like a ton of bricks and she staggered back from the pile of bones residing in the chest. Her eyes watered from the disgusting fumes and she had to look away unless she wanted to wretch.

"Look, Salene" it was the disembodied voice of the Daemon Door. Salene searched for him but the air was stale and empty, the walls contained no features of an elderly bearded man. She was convinced she was hearing things until he spoke again "Take your treasure you stupid child."

Salene forced herself to look into the chest again and she noticed this time that on the very top of the pile of rotting bones was a hand, half decomposed and revealing bits of bone and muscle with a bland but shiny ring gracing its ring finger.

"I'm expected to take that?" Salene asked the air blatantly, once again searching for the Daemon Door who must be hiding somewhere close. Silence followed long after her question and she sighed in defeat and held her breath as she picked up the hand from the chest. It was brittle and slimy in her hands, maggots infested and gorged between its fingers, and its bones cackled like a sick laugh when she pulled off the ring, bringing some of the skin that slipped off the meat like a glove.

It was completely disgusting.

Salene nearly threw the hand back into the chest and the lid closed with a squeak of the hinges and a click as it secured. She held out the plain looking ring as far from her with her thumb and forefinger and glared at it. _This must be some sick joke, stupid door._

As if reading her mind, the voice of the Daemon Door spoke up through the filthy air. "That is no ordinary ring, little child. It is enchanted with incredible power that many want but never define." he clarified and Salene looked at the ring closer, waiting to see something change in the dull solid gold to prove his words, but it continued to stay very ordinary and very disgusting, still covered in the sludge of decomposition.

"The Fae call it Orbis Veritatis, the Ring of Truth, in your inane human tongue" the Daemon Door's voice continued. "If you were wearing that when you first entered this world you would have seen it for what it was. The world you humans live in is covered in glamour, some old and forgotten and some new. Only Fae and their items can penetrate through such magic, and so, when you leave on your journey with that disgrace you will take this with you Salene, as a gift from me."

Salene wiped the sludge from the ring as effectively as the front of her blouse was capable of and fitted it to her right ring finger; no need to give anyone reason to question. The room didn't change but air flickered with a shudder and suddenly her eyes could see ribbons of color amongst the decaying world, weaving in and out of each other and glowing faintly with old magic. She blinked several times but the spell continued to swirl and weave around her in the most beautiful and terrifying dance she had ever seen.

Unlike most people who knew very little of the old world, Salene knew a great deal of Fae lore and history, it was a very important part of her studies once she began to train in the ways of will. The magic of the will was a branch of Fae magic that acted like a disease and infected the human race so long ago when humans first overran the world; a world still rich with enchantment and incredible creatures. After several decades, the human body evolved against the Fae illness and only those who still contained it through the generations were susceptible to the will.

These individuals possessed inhuman strength, reflexes, and abilities. They could heal faster, sustain injuries that would kill any normal person, and could live an unnaturally long life. These individuals were the rise of heroes. Ever hero contained a trace of ancient magic and all are able to perform spells; powerful or not. And yet, not even the most powerful will users are capable of magic like she witnessed now; they could only scratch at the surface of what the ancient Fae left behind for them, a disease.

* * *

Note: For anyone who hasn't looked on my profile, this story will be updated every Monday. In the mean time, leave me feedback (Reaver will be in the next chapter).


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

* * *

The sun was rising as Salene made her way back to Bloodstone through the Daemon Door portal. Rays of light peaked out from behind the largest building, Reaver's manor, and casted a peaceful glow on the very un-peaceful town full of very un-peaceful inhabitants. She walked down the slope of the steps to the busy waterfront; pirates and sailors were already up and about to complete their preparations to set sail later that morning. Salene passed a few of the bustling men as she went down to the docks and stood in front of the ship that Reaver had arrived in just a month before. It was named after his old ship, and himself; _The Reaver._ This ship was the largest and most impressive of all the ships anchored at the harbor, a beastly galleon standing proudly among it's inferiors; the king of all pirate ships perhaps.

She ignored the glances of the men as they passed her and sat along the ledge of the dock, dipping her hands into the water to remove any residual sludge from her and the ring that she wore. The water sparkled like millions of tiny diamonds floated at its surface but when she cupped her hands to bring back up, only water dripped from her palms.

"Ah, you're here bright and early" Reaver's voice rang out across the docks and Salene looked up to see him leaning against the side of his gallant ship, looking down at her with his conceited grin. He still appeared very much youthful. The wind whipped at his brown hair but he ignored it as he watched her pull herself back to her feet.

"And so are you, how surprising." Salene retorted, wandering over and up the ramp to _The Reaver_ as Reaver himself paralleled her from the ship and greeted her on the main deck.

"Well the captain must oversee the final preparations." Reaver claimed with an air of omnipotence. "You wouldn't believe how these impudent toads forgot to load up the fine and exceptionally expensive soap salts from Samarkand on our way back. I smelled like an Albion commoner!" It was almost comical at how serious Reaver was being at the moment but Salene was concentrating too much on something else to pay proper attention.

She looked for any traces of magic weaving at his features or the toned physique of his body yet she saw no colorful ribbons like she had seen in the forgotten cottage. Instead there was a darkness that emanated from his aura, evil and powerful in its own right. Absently, her hand started to twist the ring on her finger in some attempt to channel the enchantment more comprehendingly or turn it off, but Reaver still stood there in all his evil, egotistical glory and the darkness was very distracting to the handsome features that couldn't compare against the sin that consumed them.

"Like what you see, darling?" Reaver mused suggestively, penetrating through the unease that threatened to overwhelm Salene.

"Not at all, you're covered in filth" Salene pulled off the ring as she spoke, the aura disappeared once it slipped off her finger, and that striking face of his filled her vision and nearly blinded her. She already knew Reaver was an evil son of a bitch and she didn't need a ring to remind her of that and she placed the ancient jewelry in the pocket of her skirts.

Reaver looked at her, slightly taken aback and brought his hand to his perfect face for inspection. "Excuse me?" he demanded as he groped his cheeks, attempting to wipe away the filth Salene was supposedly speaking of.

She sighed and stepped closer to him, he being too busy with his face to notice, and grabbed his hands from his face with the roll of her eyes. "I'll get it" she lied and brought her thumb to her lips to wet and proceeded to wipe the non-existing smudge from his flawless cheek. Once satisfied with her act, Salene stepped back with an innocent smile. "You seem speechless, Reaver."

"You just spat on me." Reaver's eyes flared and snatched her hands back in his and jerked her into him, seething into her face.

"Oh, for real!" Salene cried out in annoyance "I cleaned that pretty little face of yours and you're gonna bite my head off? She seethed right back to his face, watching the flare in his emerald orbs die down and replace with his signature smugness. "Just think of it as a lick if it pleases you." She added with a tease as she pulled her hands from his slackened grip.

"I think I'd prefer you licking in other places." Reaver raised his brow as he slowly took her in. She blushed as his words sunk in but her chance to retort was taken when a dirty pirate carrying a large, elegant chest in his arms approached them from the ramp. He stopped short as he saw Salene on deck and nearly glared her overboard.

"What is it?" Reaver snapped at the man and the pirate directed his gaze back to Reaver.

"Capt'n, where do ye want these to go?" The man motioned to the chest with a shrug, then glanced back at Salene like she was an alien, never mind the countless times she's refilled his mug at the tavern.

"Put all the chests in my cabin. Oh and take that, whatever that is, too" Reaver instructed, looking at the sack in Salene hand contemptuously.

"This thing" Salene raised the dirty looking bag as she derided him, mimicking Reaver's mocking tone of voice "holds all my belongings." Reaver wrinkled his nose in barely contained disgust and waved his hand at her dismissively.

"Whatever. Just take the thing, but don't leave it on my nice rug."_ Why the hell does he have a rug on a pirate ship? Because this is Reaver, that's why._

"Why in your cabin?" Salene asked hesitantly, eyeing both pirates.

"Either that or risk your precious, dirty belongings stolen" Reaver shrugged. Salene glowered at him, _my things are not dirty, far less so than your taint, _she spat inwardly as she reluctantly handed the other pirate her bag, who then gave her one last dirty look before he turned to follow Reaver's order.

_What the hell is that all about?_ Salene asked herself.

"Come" said Reaver as he walked to the quarterdeck, passing some pirates inspecting the main sail, and stood behind the helm, placing his hands on the smooth grips of the wheel, already pretending to be at sail with the misty wind blowing through his fine locks of hair. As Salene passed, the men stopped to stare at her, then to Reaver as if silently questioning the man. Reaver paid no attention to them as he followed Salene with his eyes. She stood a few good paces beside him and stared out into the ocean, the tattered spire looming at them not far off in the distance.

"The men on this ship are the superstitious sort, you know." Reaver implied as he watched her look back at the men, who left to inspect the other sails on the other side of the ship.

"What do you mean?" she inquired, turning back to meet his steady gaze. Reaver stepped uncomfortably close to her and whispered softly against her ear, his hot breath tickling down her neck as he spoke.

"Having a lady on board is such bad luck" he snickered and smirked with wicked glee when Salene pulled away from him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Oh how he wanted to take advantage of that moment but he didn't.

"That's a load of crap, and you know it" Salene replied viciously.

"Oh, is it now?" Reaver baited with a knowing smirk at her outburst.

"Of course, how do you expect passenger ships, filled with woman too by the way, fare if it's all bad luck?" she aimed to tear that look off his face but he continued to stare at her unblinkingly, the stupid quirk of his lips still placed in an undoubtedly pompous expression.

"They don't, darling" He answered; he might as well have winked when he did too. Salene flushed with uncontained rage and shoved her delicate finger at his chest.

"You see here, Reaver, you are not commandeering any ships while I'm on board." She demanded, glaring deep into his unabashed eyes. Reaver grabbed her wrist with one hand, the other seized her jaw none too gently, directing her gaze to him alone as he spoke to her in a husky voice that nearly set her on fire.

"It's a shame you have no power over the Captain of this ship, darling little girl, but while you're on board you will bare with whatever I please." Salene's eyes widen again as this time the blood in her veins mingled restlessly at his words, disorienting her. Thrilled with the expression on her face and how her body disobediently responded to him, he pulled her face closer to his, his lips mere inches away from hers. "During such moments you can not handle my demands, I'll have to simply tie you to my bed while I do my evil deeds." It was all too clear his words were meant to be taken more ways than one and the magic in her blood nearly exploded as it coursed in her veins in hot waves. By the look on the Pirate Kings face, he felt the power lapping out at him and smiled at her loss of control.

Eyes glowing brightly, Salene desperately pulled herself away from him and he let her stumble backwards, flustered and slightly panting with the excessive amount of energy it took to not set herself ablaze with raw, unnatural fire. "Good luck with that" she sneered at him, pissed off at how her body begged to run back into his arms and let him possess her, "but I won't let you rape, pillage, and plunder while I'm around."

"You wound me, Salene" Reaver dramatically clutched at his chest with a fake shocked expression on his face "I never rape, they are always willing." He corrected.

* * *

Salene stormed off the quarterdeck, leaving Reaver to laugh haughtily at her heels, and marched to the other side of the ship to the bow. She needed to cool off before she got too close to Reaver again or her body might melt, or worse, actually set itself on fire. She never thought it possible to lose so much control over her will, but when it came to that arrogant pirate, she couldn't stop the pull her blood was begging for, the need to be possessed and to possess in return.

It was a familiar feeling but Salene couldn't place where the feeling originated, she didn't come across many other heroes during her little adventure around Albion, and the only other hero she spent a lot of time with was Garth, which was absurd. So why was it nagging at the back of her mind? When and where else did her hero blood call for another?

Salene crawled out to the tip of the bow and straddled the beam as she continued to search her memories for the answers but was met with nothing but a vacant haze. She didn't know how long she was left there, lost in her mind, but the slight vibration of the bow beneath her jerked her back to the world and she glanced behind her to see a strange face at the base of the bow watching her.

"Reaver request ye" the stranger said to her and turned to leave back down to the main deck.

Salene crawled back to the deck and looked down at the docks. A group of people were crowded around one lone figure in the center. _Reaver_. He had changed again, probably just for the occasion of sending himself off. He was geared up in deep red and flashy gold, his blood red cape billowed in the gentle breeze and by the reflection of the sun, fingers clad in gaudy, sparkling rings. At his waist, his Dragonstomper gleamed with prestige. Many of the people gathered around him were the whores, cooing and crying, begging him to take them with him. He laughed cynically at their pleas and let the girls, and a couple men, cling to him in seductive attempts to persuade him. Instead, Reaver glanced up at the Forecast Deck to lock eyes with Salene's. She glared at him and turned her back on him and waited at the helm for his sending off to be done.

A couple of minutes later she heard Reaver and the rest of the pirates climb the ramp, then the scraping of it being pulled onto the deck. The sails fluttered against their binds as they were released from the masts and the hoisting of the anchor by strong men proceeded. Moments later, Reaver arrived at the helm, glowing with the attention he had just received.

"There you are Salene, why didn't you join me at the docks while everyone was sending us off?" Reaver teased.

"I'm sure a few of the whores would try to throttle me if they knew I was going with you. Is that what you wanted?" Reaver laughed at her remark; of course that's what he wanted.

"I would never let that happen" he lied and set to steering the ship out of the harbor.

After a moment of Reaver completely engrossing himself at setting a good pace, Salene grew impatient. "You called for me Captain?" she teased sarcastically, earning a beautiful smile from pirate captain, who either didn't hear her sarcasm or chose to ignore it. It made her heart skip a beat. It made her scold herself silently.

"Now that's more like it, but give me a few and I'll grace you with my full attention." He winked at her and she bit her tongue so that she wouldn't stick it out at him. That would have been too childish and he might have taken it as an invitation.

An elderly man, weathered with age and sun but still brawny looking despite his apparent age, joined them at the helm and took Reaver's place at the wheel. She gathered he was the first mate with the way he barked orders at the other pirates.

Reaver strolled up to her and gestured with the charming swoop of his hand in a mocking bow. "My lady" he teased sarcastically "let me show you to your accommodations." He made a grand point that they weren't going anywhere until she linked her arm with his so she did reluctantly and allowed him to guide her to the sterncastle, where his private quarters and other cabins resided. She could feel the heated looks from the pirates at her back when Reaver gracefully opened the cabin's door and gently shoved her inside.

The room was considerably dimmer than outside, none of the lanterns were lit and only the window at the back of the cabin provided light. From what little light there was to shed, she could tell it was a beautiful study in royal blues and gold trims. At the center of the room was a large map table made of deep mahogany wood with a few matching chairs, padded with royal blue material. Maps littered the table in disarray, one large map on top of the rest, and compass and pencil laying on it. Reaver had crouched over it just recently, she guessed.

Reaver watched Salene as she approached the table and gently ran her fingers along the smooth wood and peered at the map. It was too dark at the moment to see clearly so she gave up. There were doors on either side of the room, one of them having to be Reaver's bed chamber. She prayed the other was another private room for her. She glanced back up at Reaver and he followed her to the other side of the table. He made to light one of the oil lanterns but she stopped him, taking it from his hands. She whispered something unintelligible and the wick lit up wildly, giving off light to the immediate area. It was her turn to look smug at his shocked face.

"This is where you'll be staying" Reaver announced, making her victory a short lived one. She frowned as he stared pointedly at one of the door across from them, hopefully not his personal quarters.

"We get separate rooms, right?" Salene glanced at the door warily then back at Reaver who just started to laugh.

"Did you think a private cabin would be provided to you?" Reaver chastised her as he took the lamp from her hands; it flickered with the movement and casted strange shadows across his face. "But if you would prefer, you can bunk with the rest of the men. I can't guarantee your safety though" His voice suddenly took on a dangerous note. "I can't deny my men a tasty meal if it's so willing to stray." Reaver licked his lips suddenly and the motion made Salene take a step back from him. He followed her and soon she found herself cornered against the wall and his steady approach. She cursed silently to herself.

"I can't deny myself." Reaver added hungrily, looking more like a beast than human as he closed the remaining distance and placed his hands on either side of Salene, caging her like a frail, little bird. Her body started to crackle as her blood cried out for him. Her mind screamed for her to run but her legs refused to move. "But if you bed with me, no one will think of messing with you." He promised greedily, brushing his hot lips along her neck, tracing her feverish pulse up to her jaw. Salene took in a shaky breath, refraining herself from arching into his awaiting body.

Reaver gently cupped her face in his hands and drew down to brush his lips against hers in a light kiss that was almost out of character for him. A violent spark shot through him at the slight touch, causing a shiver to run down his spine and straight to his groin. His blood roared with life and demanded the sustenance that was Salene's body. The hunger that threatened to consume him now was something completely foreign to him (which had to be impossible). He pulled back slightly to see her frightened eyes begin to glaze before they flutter closed, and without wasting another second to claim what was his, he crushed his mouth back down on hers, hard.

Salene's eyes flew open, bright hazel fiercely glowing, and met the dark gleam of emerald watching her with ravenous fascination. _Oh Gods, what am I doing? _She screamed. She couldn't pull away from his vice grip so she did the next best thing her muddled mind could think of and bit his lip hard, blood exploded into her mouth and she almost gagged at the metallic taste. Instead of pulling away like she hoped, Reaver groaned into her mouth and seized her bottom lip between his teeth to return the favor with vigor. She whimpered against him and she tried to pull her face free from his hands but he held her fast to his mouth, titling her head to deepen the kiss.

She gasped as Reaver let his hands rake down her quivering body; over her shoulders, down her sides, and captured her hips, pulling her roughly against him. He grunted as he felt her mold so perfectly against his blazing body. Taking advantage of her surprise, his tongue forced her lips opened and invaded her sweet mouth, devouring her; tasting as much as he could steal. He bucked her against the hard wood behind her and he grinded his pelvis in hers; something hot and hard pressed against her thigh as he forced himself on her and she panted into his greedy mouth, quickly losing any revolve to fight him.

The crackle of magic licked at Salene's body and engulfed them in a blazing, invisible fire. She fought in vain as she moaned into his passionate kiss, feeling his cocky smirk against her swollen lips; he devoured it, deepening the kiss and forcing her to respond. Her hands grabbed at the front of his shirt and she fought against his tongue with her own, earning a growl of approval from Reaver's throat and another buck against the wall. His hands roamed her body eagerly; one roughly cupped her left breast and kneaded her nipple through the thin material of her blouse, the other still possessively holding her to him. Salene cried out at the strange sensation, pulling her mouth from his.

"Reaver, stop" Salene pleaded against his ministration.

"Your body sings for me" Reaver panted against her throat, very much feeling the pull of his own hero blood. "How can you want me to stop?" he slowly pulled away from her to look at her face; flustered and sweating against him. Visible sparks lapped at his face as she opened her bright, glowing eyes to meet his. They were full of want and hate.

"My blood sings to you" Salene admitted, "My mind does not. You told me earlier you only took the willing."

Reluctantly, Reaver slowly untangled himself from her with a snarl, leaving her to pant against the wall.

"You will stay in this cabin during the duration of our voyage." Reaver considered her as she contained the will that reached out for him. He could almost see the coils of fierce colors retreating back into her but when he blinked all he saw was Salene looking back into his eyes; dull hazel locked with dark emerald.

"I will share your accommodations, Reaver" Salene agreed after a deep breath, and then she glared at him with a condescending smirk of her own. "But don't think you'll be getting everything you want."

"It's only a matter of time before you throw yourself at me, Salene." He rebutted quickly and dissapeared out to the main deck, leaving Salene to hate herself in peace.

* * *

Don't be surprised if I miss a couple Mondays for a bit, I'm in a little fix and midterms are calling from the near future. I hate Statistics. Review if you liked


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